


What Kind Of Man

by localmanghoe



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Drug Use, Implied Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Sexism, Vaginal Sex, michael being a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localmanghoe/pseuds/localmanghoe
Summary: Your new husband has some secrets, uncovering them may not be the best idea.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 94
Kudos: 109





	1. White Wedding

A storm was brewing.It was the beginning of summer in Southern England, far too late in the year for weather like this. Maybe it was a symbol of what was to come, an omen.  
Despite the weather, the village was abuzz. Your house being the centre of the commotion. The occasion was supposed to be one of immense joy, of happiness and of love. It was the day that little girls and young women alike had dreamed of, the day their lives would change. However, for you the air of the day of your wedding was sombre, but maybe it was just you, you felt like you were about to attend your own funeral.  
////  
You sat in front of the mirror while your mother braided your hair back into a low bun. You were still in awe at the crisp white fabric of your dress. Although you had made the dress yourself, the fabric itself was gifted to you by your future husband, he had spared no expense it seemed. You still had the letter that came with the package that day, it was the only piece of correspondence you had with the man.  
Your mothers face was beaming with joy as she did your hair, you however looked as gloomy as the weather outside.  
“Mother? Do you hate me?” you asked.  
Your mother stopped braiding your hair and looked up at you through the mirror.  
“why would you think that my child?”  
“you’re sending me so far up north, where its cold, you know I love the sun more than anything”  
She finishes off your hair and inserts some delicate pieces of ‘baby’s breath’ into the back.  
“My dear, as women we must make sacrifices for our families no matter how hard they maybe. Your brother wouldn’t suggest someone he didn’t trust, and be grateful, your marrying a Count. It brings me great joy that you will be taken care of in a way no other boy in this village could, I can die in peace knowing you won’t starve to death.” She puts the final touches in your hair, and you wrinkle your nose at the mention of death, a topic your mother seemed to discuss more often now.  
“now please put a smile on your face, you look utterly miserable, it isn’t your wake it’s your wedding, so please try to look the part of the blushing bride”, she said as she kissed your cheek.  
You huff and force a smile. “And stop huffing and puffing, it’s very unladylike.”  
You resist the temptation to roll your eyes.  
Before the conversation could go any further, your friend burst through the door, “HE’S HERE!”  
“Catherine please don’t do that again, I could have pinned the veil into Y/Ns head, and we don’t want any blood on the wedding day, its bad luck”. Your mother says as she finishes pinning your veil.  
A knock on the door interrupts you once again, this time it was your father. “ready to go?” he asked.  
“Oh yes yes just adding some last touches” your mother replied for you.  
“I would like a moment alone please, I’m a little nervous”, you said.  
“well… be downstairs in 10 minutes, we mustn’t keep the Count waiting,” your father responded. They all left the room, leaving you to your thoughts.  
You thought about the man you were about to marry, a Northern Count that you had never met before. Although you had never left your village, the name ‘Michael Langdon’ was known far and wide. You had heard stories of his beauty and charm from the women who never seemed to shut up. Your own friend Catherine had met him once at an event in London and sang his praises for days, you thought she’d gone mad.  
But you’d also heard stories about him from the men, stories you shouldn’t have heard. You couldn’t help yourself; you weren’t allowed in the parlour room when your brother was entertaining guests after his return form the Grand Tour. So, you spent the evenings with your ear pressed against the door, and you heard everything. Your brother spent the nights boasting about the debauchery and revelry he participated in, with your to-be husbands name mentioned on numerous occasions, he seemed to be the ringleader of all the ‘activities’ the boys got up to. Your first impression of him was not that great.  
Thinking back on all the stories did nothing to calm your nerves. The feeling of dread just seemed to get worse. You took one last look at yourself, smoothing down your dress. You picked up your lace gloves and put them on. Finally, you pulled your veil over your face and started making your way downstairs.  
////  
You stood waiting for the doors to open as the bells rang to signal your arrival. Those bells wouldn’t be enough to ward away the evil that was to come. You held your fathers arm so tightly, you felt like a child learning to walk again.  
The doors started to open, you thought you would pass out.  
“Remember, look happy”, your mother’s voice echoes in your head and you force a little smile.  
You start walking down the aisle, trying not to look at the man you were to be bound to. But the walk did not last long enough. You stood at the front facing him. Michael lifted your veil and you finally looked at him. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked into those icy blue eyes. His golden hair, slightly curled, rested on his shoulders. You thought for a minute that an angel from the stained glass that surrounded you had come to life and graced you with his presence. But the smirk that was present on his plump lips told another story. You had spent so long gawking at your groom that you didn’t realise the ring had been placed on your finger, and it was your turn to say your vows. You looked down at his hands as he removed his glove, the bright red seemed so out of place for a ceremony like this. You repeat after the priest and place the ring on his finger; thunder booms in the sky. If you hadn’t been in such a daze, maybe you would have noticed how cold his hand was. The priest finishes the ceremony with a “you may now kiss your bride”. Michael leans down and gives you a quick peck. His lips had felt so soft, and as you turned to leave the church, you knew you finally looked the part of the ‘blushing bride’  
////  
The carriage ride back to your home was so quiet. You spent the journey looking out the window, taking in your village for what felt like the last time. You felt Michael staring at you, but your daren’t look at him again, fearing you may be bewitched by him. You had never been so thankful to see your front door; you could have leaped out the carriage. Michael got out first, offering his hand to help you out. Just as you both stepped into the house, thunder boomed again, and the rain pelted down as the door was closed. A minute too late and you would have been soaked.  
You were both surrounded by your guests, congratulating you on your marriage. You both thanked them for attending, while making your way over to the dinner table to cut the cake. You both held the knife, your gloved hand gripped by his as you cut into the cakes, you squeaked at seeing the inside was red, like blood. You heard Michael chuckling behind you, “its red velvet my dear, quite the rage in the Americas”. Your guests, just like you, were fascinated by this new flavour, but you were reluctant to try it, the nausea of the day getting worse at the thought of food.  
You both sat at the dinner table to eat with your guests. You ate very little, fearing you may be sick at any minute. Michael was a different story; you saw him eat more cake than a child on their birthday. He turned to you, holding out his dessert fork, “here, try some, I’m being generous I don’t usually share my desserts”. You rolled your eyes and reluctantly leant forward, allowing him to feed you a piece. You smiled at him, “its quite nice actually”.  
“I know” he replied and turned back to speak to another guest. You wanted to slap that smirk off his face.  
////  
The evening came and the weather showed no sign of stopping, maybe it was a blessing and you could spend one more night in your childhood bed. But Michael had other plans. He stood and turned to your father, “we should really get going, I unfortunately have important business to attend to back home and it can’t wait any longer,” It was as if his honey like voice had your father in a trance. Your father being the logical man her was, would never let you leave in such terrible conditions. Yet he replied with a quick “oh yes of course”.  
You tried to be the voice of reason, “but the weather is terrible, the roads outside this village are prone to flooding, and I haven’t even changed yet.”  
Michael looked at you like you were stupid, “my dear, we do not have enough time for you to get changed, its late already and we won’t arrive until early tomorrow morning. Worrying about the roads isn’t your responsibility” he said.  
You father replied “Michael’s right, the carriage has already been loaded with your things and all your dresses are in there. Who are we to interfere in the business of a Count?”  
Michael looks at you condescendingly again, the urge to hit him resurfaces as your fingers twitch, you wonder why this man makes you want to be so violent.  
Your family walks you both to the door, saying their goodbyes. You wish you’d hugged them tighter. Your mother kisses your cheek one final time, “pull your veil down dear, its bad luck for your face to be seen during your journey to you new home. Make sure you write to me as soon as you get there, I’ll worry until I get your letter.”  
“of course, mother I won’t forget” you reply.  
You turn to enter the carriage and Michael pulls your veil over your face, “bad luck, remember” he says. You enter the carriage, resisting the urge to knee him in the groin, and wave back to your parents as it pulls out. You can barely see their faces through the rain, but it would be the last time you would.  
Michael sits opposite you, stretches and places his feet next to you. “there’s so much rage in you today, your jaw might hurt from all the clenching. Be a little happy, you’ve married a Count” he said.  
You looked at him, grateful your veil and the darkness obscured his face, “I’m making a big change Count Langdon, your county is very far from my home, and this marriage was my dear brothers’ decision, not mine. I’d like us to get along so Ill hold my tongue for now. If it isn’t a bother, I’m quite tired and id like to sleep.” You shot back.  
His jaw clenched, his hand shot out and grabbed your chin like a vice. In a low snarl he replied, “then sleep”.  
With those words, your eyes fell shut, giving in to the overwhelming urge to sleep, you face still in Michael’s hands.


	2. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new house is going to take a while to get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for how long this took. A lot is going on right now but hopefully i'll be more consistent at the end of this month.

You were jolted awake by a dip in the road, causing you to smack your head on the side of the window where you were leaning. You heard a snickering from below you and felt something on your lap. You looked down to see Michael looking up at you, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Sleep well my dear? you looked so comfortable, so I thought I’d rest my head.”

“We’re almost here” Michael said, as he got up from your lap to the other side of the carriage.

You looked out of the window, expecting to see some sort of manor house. However, you were met with the sight of a large castle. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes to get a better look; it was as if something from your childhood fairy-tales had come to life. Yet, in the gloom of the morning clouds it looked more ominous.

The carriage came to stop at the entrance of the castle. Michael helped you out of the carriage and lead you up to the door, “Welcome to your new home, our **_sanctuary_** ”. You felt the first of the northern chill, the temperature causing you to shiver. “Come along now, it’s warmer inside,” Michael said as the door opened with a loud creek. You went to step into the castle, when you were stopped by Michael picking you up and carrying you over the threshold. You gave out a squeak as he put you down. Michael lifted your veil for the second time, giving out a chuckle at your red face underneath. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” you huffed.

“Oh, I am,” he replied.

Before you could go any further you were interrupted by a woman with short black hair and an aged faced.

“My Lord, I’m glad you’ve come back to us safe and sound,” greeted the women.

“Yes, thank you Mrs. Mead, the journey was quite comfortable”, he replied. “Mrs Mead, may I introduce you to my beautiful bride, the new countess Y/N”. You smiled and nodded at her. “Y/N, this is Mrs. Mead, the head of staff here and one of my closest confidants, should any major problems arise, please speak to her first.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you my Lady, we’ve been eagerly anticipating your arrival. As my Lord mentioned, I am here to make you as comfortable as possible,” she smiled at you. “Please, do come along now, breakfast is prepared, and we don’t want it to get cold now do we?”

Michael held his arm out for you to hold, and you did so, following his lead to the dining room. You looked at your surroundings in awe, you hadn’t seen churches as richly decorated as this castle, one could mistake Michael for a French king with his taste in décor.

You both arrived at the dining room, the table set for two; although, the food presented to you could easily feed five. You began to learn your husband liked to eat; he thoroughly enjoyed his food. Your own appetite, however, was still being supressed by your nerves. Only picking a little at a time.

As breakfast ended, Mrs. Mead whispered something in Michaels ear; he wiped his mouth and stood to leave. “Unfortunately, some important business has come up, I leave you with your hand maid Medina to take you to freshen up and get ready for the day ahead”

He left you there at the breakfast table, while quietly whispering with his head of staff. A blonde girl that looked to be about 17 introduced herself, “Good morning my Lady, my name is Medina and I will be your handmaid, I’ve been instructed to give you a quick tour and then help you get dressed,” she said.

“it’s very nice to meet you Medina, I do hope I can meet the expectations of the people in this home and this county,” you replied.

“Oh, my Lady your beauty and manners have already exceeded our expectations,” she smiled at you.

Your eyes widened and you started to blush at her words, not expecting them. You got up from the table after wiping your lip, and Medina led you out of the dining room.

////

You finally arrived to your room after your quick tour of the house, you knew you would get lost in the large maze that was now your home, so you’d have to keep someone close by until you got used to it.

The room itself was grander than the rest of the house if it was even possible. You had never seen a fourposter bed that big and you were sure the sheets were custom made. You husband spared no expense in any aspect of his life, not even where he slept. Medina took you over to the dressing table, a rich mahogany with gold detailing. You sat down on the stool and finally removed your white lace gloves, your hands feeling a little cold in this weather. You begin to unpin your veil and hair and Medina noticed you shiver a little. “I am so sorry my lady, I’ll go get the materials to start the fire, all the fireplaces were cleaned yesterday so we haven’t stocked up on firewood yet,” she said and quickly left the room.

You stood to look at yourself in the full-length mirror nearby. This was the last time you would wear white, and you were surprised at how much you liked the dress, fabric handpicked by your husband and handmade by you and your mother. Every detail so meticulously placed. Your thoughts started to go somewhere morbid, the next time anyone would see this dress, it would be dyed black. You shook your head to stop the thoughts of your new husbands’ death, not a place for a new bride’s mind to wander. Your corset suddenly felt so tight and you attempted to unlace it. Lost in the struggle of untying the knot, you didn’t notice Michael enter the room, startled when his gloved hands touched yours.

“Here, let me help you my little dove,” he said. You tried not to make eye contact with him in the mirror as he slowly unlaced you, exposing the skin on your back to the chill of the room. He finally caught your gaze, smirking at you. At last, the only thing keeping you from fully exposing yourself was your arms tightly holding up the front of the dress.

“You look beautiful in white,” he began, moving your hair over one shoulder, giving him a full view of your soft skin. Then running his gloved hand down your spine. You gasped at his actions, the intimate touch of another so foreign to you. The leather of his gloves made your Goosebumps rise even further. He then began to run his fingers along the indents left by your corset, the skin a little tender in those areas, being soothed by the coolness of his touch. His hand finally stopped at the small of your back, his fingers rubbing circles into the skin. He brought his nose the back of your neck, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, “you smell so sweet, it’s driving me mad,” his words making you flush even more than you thought possible. He placed one single kiss on your nape, making you almost moan out at the sensation. Then, as if he were burned, he suddenly pulls back.

“I hope this room is to your liking, Medina will help you with the rest,” he turned and abruptly left, without so much as sparing you a glance, leaving you standing there in awe.

Medina came into the room, out of breath and carrying the wood to start the fire. “are you okay My Lady, you look a little flush,” she asked.

“oh yes I’m fine I think its just the temperature change.”

“Let’s get you warmed up, we don’t want you getting sick,” she said as she started the fire.

She then helped you to undress, pulling out a periwinkle blue dress.

“Mrs Venebale, the seamstress, will be arriving on Wednesday to measure you properly and discuss preferences with you, for now the Count has selected a few dresses.” She said as she finished lacing you up. You looked at yourself in the mirror and Medina started on your hair, you were happy to do it yourself, but she insisted. You would have to get used to all this extra help.

“Is there anything in particular you want to see my Lady?” Medina asked as she place the last pin.

“I’d like to go to the library if you don’t mind,” you replied, pulling on you matching blue gloves.

////

The Library of the castle was as grand as its surrounding, the thought of so many books for you to occupy your time with brought a smile to your face. The room had shelves going right up to the ceiling, two floors and various moving ladders to reach the highest shelves. This was a dream come true; You wouldn’t be limited to what your family allowed you to read. The sun had started to peak through the clouds a little, illuminating the gold embossing on the spines, the books calling out to you. You selected a book and sat down by the fire, feeling at peace for the first time in a while.

////

When Medina came to get you for dinner, the sun had set. You were lost in your book, not noticing the passage of time. As you arrived in the dining room, you noticed that the table was only set for one.

“will the count be joining me tonight?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, he has important business to attend to, he’ll be served in his study,” replied Mrs Mead.

You sat at the table by yourself, a little lonely without his company already. Yet the feeling of being watched started to creep up on you, persisting throughout your meal.

////

You made your way back to your room, finding that Medina had set up a bath for you.

“Would you like any assistance my Lady,” Medina asked.

“No thank you, I’d like a moment to myself if that’s alright with you,” you smiled. You were not a child, the least you could to is bathe yourself.

You sank into the lavender scented water, relaxing instantly. All the tension caused by your new Husband seemed to melt away. He was a strange man, and you knew he would continue to vex you, so you would need to make the most of your time alone.

As you sunk further into the water, you heard the door creak. When you looked no one was there, when you called out there was no reply. You tried to tell yourself that Medina may have left the door open, but that feeling of being watched from earlier, stared to creep up again.

You got out the bath, quickly drying yourself off and putting your night gown on. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation getting to you that was making you paranoid. You blew out all your candles, leaving the fireplace as the only light in the large room. For the first time since you were a child you wish your mother was here with you, to comfort you and sing you to sleep. You fell into a restless sleep that night, dreaming of strange things.

Dreaming of sharp teeth.

Of cold hands.

Of blood.

And of coal black eyes and pale skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my Tumblr is @ michaellangdonstanaccount and next chapter is a mikey pov. Stay Tuned


	3. Hook, line and Sinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawthorne to Husband

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This makes no sense but heres a lil back story lol.

Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men had a reputation. It was arguably one of the best boys’ schools in Europe. Producing politicians, poets and playwrights. One could rub shoulders with royals and nobility, all in the same classroom. The boys of Hawthorne also had a reputation. They were known for their intellect and excellent sportsmanship. Yet Hawthorne was mostly famous for the libertine lifestyle their boys lived.   
Michael Langdon was their poster boy.   
There was no other man in the world that emulated the libertine life more than he did. Almost every girl in the local village had a story.   
Hawthorne’s Grand Tour, like its education, was legendary. There was no better way to pursue life’s pleasures than travelling through Europe’s cultural epicentres, all in the guise of the well-rounded education that every respectable young man should have. The boys spent their years at the school looking forward to it, each new year wanting it to be bigger and better than those that came before them. The school’s unofficial motto was ‘work hard, play hard’; and god did those boys play.   
The expectations for this year were high as Michael Langdon was head boy. He had a reputation, in order to maintain it, he would have to deliver the most grand and exciting tour of all. And deliver he did.   
Nights in Paris were spent reclined in opium dens. The drug filled haze encouraging rambunctious behaviour. Michael wouldn’t remember the names of the men and women that spent the night in his arms. The days were spent hungover, shopping or in museums. Michael liked to show off his amazing French, wooing the natives of the city.  
Geneva was spent indulging in chocolate, fondue and absinthe. Some nights Michael had to be carried back to the lodgings, having indulged far too much in the ‘green fairy’ to even keep himself up.  
He took a liking to the opera singers in Florence, the wine flowed free and so did Michael’s morals. Not a care in the world for what others thought of him, he was here to indulge and indulge he did.  
Venice was known as the crown jewel of the tour; this was the city that all gentlemen boasted about in conversation. This was going to be the best city and Michael had to impress.  
////  
Michaels roommate in Venice was Gabriel Y/LN, a boy he’d known since they started at Hawthorne, yet knew nothing about outside the school walls; he didn’t care to. As they both started to unpack for the week, Michael noticed a picture frame on Gabriel’s desk.  
“What’s that on your desk?” asked Michael.  
“Hmm? Oh this?” Gabriel replied, picking up the picture frame. “It’s a picture of my dear little sister, Y/N.”  
“why do you carry around a picture of your sister?” Michael laughed; the boys rarely spoke of female relatives.  
“I bring it with me to remind me to actually do some work, I think she’d be much better suited to a full-time education than me, clever girl really,” laughed Gabriel. Its was even rarer for the boys to speak highly of their female relatives.  
Michael took the picture and studied the girl. Images of people smiling were rare, so he was surprised to see her soft lips turned up in a smile. Her hair was styled perfectly around her face, adding to the softness of the image. She was different from the girls that he spent his nights with. The image instilled a hunger in him that he could not explain, for now he would be insatiable. She was not as easily obtainable as the women before.  
The people around Michael would fall at his feet if they had to, but the girl in the picture seemed like a different story, a challenge of sorts. He couldn’t simply walk up to her and whisk her away, he’d have to work for it, pull every possible string he could to even look at her in person.   
Michael loved a challenge, there was nothing in the world he couldn’t have; as unattainable this girl would seem, he would have her, whether she liked it or not.   
“I’m sure your sisters spoken for, there must be plenty of suitors in that village of yours,” Michael said, handing the frame back to Gabriel.  
“you’d think so,” sighed Gabriel. “My father is a picky man and wont just marry her off to anyone. He wants a secure future for her, he thinks the boys in the village can’t provide for her. I agree with him, she’s my only sister and I want her to be well. But she doesn’t help herself either,” explained Gabriel.  
“what do you mean by that?”  
“well, a lot of the potential matches think she too well read. She can do all the tasks expected of a young lady. Like her embroidery, its quite well known in the local area. It could rival the artwork in these museums, it’s so complex and beautiful. But she has quite the sharp tongue and well, I guess gentlemen do not want any arguments in the home, or a wife with more common sense than them,” Gabriel finished.  
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll find someone,” said Michael.   
This was perfect. A girl that was unspoken for was easier to get a hold of than one that was spoken for. Michael knew exactly what strings he had to pull; use the friendship he had with Gabriel, build a rapport with her father and come across as the perfect match. It would be a long game but one he was willing to play.  
For the rest of the trip, he looked for women with the same hair colour, or similar features. If he was intoxicated enough, their faces would blur, and he could imagine her in their place. Too busy in all the exciting activities, Gabriel did not notice that the picture of his sister had gone missing.  
This was a craving like no other, he would do anything he could to satiate himself, even if it was temporary.   
////  
The boys’ return to Hawthorne was a grand affair. It was a party hosted by alumni, to welcome the boys into their ranks. A chance to boast about their trip and secure jobs and positions in the upper echelons of society.   
Michael didn’t need to worry about job security, he had been a count since he was 16. His father, Count Lucien Langdon, had died before he was born. His uncle Nathaniel ‘Tate’ Langdon had taken over the estate, until his untimely death when Michael was 16, leaving him with everything.  
Michael did not undermine the importance of the event. As all past Alumni were invited, Gabriel and Y/Ns father would also be there. This was Michaels chance to make an impression and show him that he was better than every other motherfucker in the room.   
As the boys were being welcomed back by their fathers and uncles, Michael stood in the background for he had no one here to greet him, to welcome him home. Before he could spend too long wallowing, Gabriel called him over.  
“Father, may I introduce you to Count Michael Langdon, head boy and my dormmate for the past few years,” said Gabriel.  
Michael extended his hand for a firm handshake, “Pleasure to finally meet you sir, I am Count Michael Langdon, but for tonight I am a close friend of your son.”  
Michael made eye contact with him and knew he had him. The rest of the evening would be spent drinking, sharing stories and discussing current affairs with Gabriel’s father.  
“so, Michael,” started Mr. Y/LN, “any siblings?”  
Michael put his drink down and replied, “no, unfortunately I am an only child. My father passed just before my birth, and my uncle died childless. I am aware that Gabriel has a younger sister.”  
“ah, so you’ve heard of my Y/N. Yes, she’s not much younger than you, she’s reached a marriable age now and maybe I can find a suitable gentleman tonight. But I won’t bore you with such trivialities, I’m sure you’ve been betrothed since birth.”   
Michael smiled. ‘Perfect’, he thought to himself. “a common misconception actually, unfortunately I lost my parents before any such arrangement could be made. These days many are not willing to tie their daughters to a young man without a proper guardian,” explained Michael.  
Mr. Y/LNs eyes widened in shock and curiosity and Michaels grin grew.

Hook, line and sinker.  
////  
This was easier than Michael thought. I didn’t take many more meetings for Gabriel’s father to suggest Michael and Y/Ns union. Michael would be the knight in shining armour that would ensure a secure future for the young lady. Her brother was overjoyed that a man that he considered a dear friend would marry his sister. The union also opened up business opportunities for the Y/LN family, with the Langdon name backing them up in any future venture, they’d be mad to refuse.  
He hadn’t met her yet. She was always busy with some other engagement when he was in the area. She never really left the village. He had met her friend in London, making sure to leave a good enough impression that would get back to her.   
He had caught one glimpse of her, six moths before the wedding; Michael had gone to hand deliver the white fabric for the wedding dress. She had passed by him in the village square, chatting away with some friends, not even sparing him a glance. He inhaled as she walked past; she smelled of honey and jasmine, sweet and intoxicating. That one look was all it took for the fire to ignite in Michaels belly. He thought of her that night, as he used his hands to satisfy himself, wishing they were hers.  
////  
The weather was perfect on the day of his wedding. Storms and clouds were what Michael enjoyed. He did not enjoy churches, but it was a small concession to make in the grand scheme of things.   
He watched as the doors opened, he felt the hesitation from the veiled figure that was drifting towards him. She still hadn’t looked at him when she reached the alter; did she not know that men and women would kill to even get a glimpse of him?  
He lifted her veil, her eyes finally drifting up to his. He heard her breath hitch and watched her eyes widen. That was the reaction he was hoping for. He finally took her in, her face illuminated by a sliver of sunlight that had broken through the clouds. The picture he had stolen did her no justice, no camera or artist could capture when he saw. He was just as captivated as she was with him, albeit with a little more control. Her hands were soft and warm as he removed her glove to place the ring; he had dreamed of these hands for 18 months, resisting the urge to kiss her palms and fingertips in front of the whole village. The ceremony ended with a customary kiss; the feel of her soft lips sparked thoughts that would make the angels in the stained glass turn away in disgust.

Finally 

He had her and he was not going to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thenk u for reading, comments are appreciated and my tumblr is @ michaellangdonstanaccount


	4. Midsummer Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet Michaels friends and he leaves you 'breathless'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is long as fuck im sorry, but please do enjoy it and leave a comment.

Wednesday came around faster than you thought. In the two days since Sunday, you’d only seen your husband twice, at evening supper. You didn’t see him in the mornings either, expecting him to be at your side, although, he always left a single red rose on his pillow. You had not spoken since the corset incident, just brief ‘good evenings’. He was a very busy man it seemed.  
Today you were to be fitted for your new wardrobe, Mrs. Venabale arriving after lunch. You found yourself recoiling under her gaze as she scrutinised and measured you up.  
“your posture could use some improvement, I’m adjusting you corsets with that in mind,” she stated, scribbling something down. “Other than that, not much needs to be done, the Count seems to have sent me accurate measurements a few weeks ago.”  
Your brows knitted in confusion; you don’t recall having ever sending your measurements to anyone. You were sure your village seamstress didn’t have any up to date numbers, as you had preferred to make your own clothing in recent years.  
Venabale raised her brow at you, “a Countess must not be so open with her emotions, you must remain expressionless, or else people wont respect you, or take you seriously.” She started to pack her tools, “Your ballgown will arrive in time for Friday, as I mentioned earlier, I need to adjust your corseting,” she finished.  
Ball? No one had told you about a ball. You tried to recall any mention of it as Medina led her out.  
You asked Medina when she returned, “Is there to be a ball this Friday?”  
“Yes, we have an annual Midsummer ball, it’s quite the event, this year is extra special as it’s also to welcome you to the County,” she smiled.  
Midsummer. How time flies. Friday would mark a week since your wedding, the feeling of dread you had that day had not yet died down. You would write to your mother soon.  
You had an idea to help you pass the time. “The Count is a fan of dessert yes?” you asked.  
Medina nodded in reply.  
“Show me to the kitchens I’d like to bake something for dinner this evening,” you said.  
Medina looked at you in shock, “My Lady you don’t have to do that, all you have to do is ask and the staff will prepare anything you want.”  
You stopped her before she could go any further, “Please Medina, I’m bored and I’m more than capable of being in the kitchen.”  
She nodded, and led you to the kitchens.

////

The kitchens were grand, a few staff members flitting around. Mrs. Mead was also there, preparing the meal for tonight.  
“My Lady? What brings you here?” she asked.  
“I’d like to make a cake for this evening, to keep me occupied, I promise I’m a good baker,” you replied.  
She hesitated, before showing you to the dessert ingredients. You had decided to make a simple Victoria sponge.  
“Our working garden has fresh strawberries actually,” Medina suggested.  
“Can I have a look?  
She led you through to a little walled garden behind the kitchens, filled with an array of produce; it was used for the smaller meals in the castle. You took a little basket and went to pick the strawberries you needed for the cake. The staff looked at you in shock, not expecting the countess to be so hands on.  
You smiled at them all as you walked back inside, ready to start on the cake. Everyone returned to their stations, the staff and you falling into a natural rhythm. The conversation was coming easy, forgetting your new status for a while, laughing along with the staff. Time flew by and the smell of cake and strawberry jam wafted through the castle.

////

Michael and you sat down for your evening meal. Sick of the awkward silence, you decided to ask some questions.  
“I heard there’s a ball this Friday,” you asked. He stopped and wiped his lip.  
“yes, there is, it’s why I’ve been so busy for the past few days,” he started. “The Midsummer ball here is quite well known, I’m sure your brother may have mentioned it before. It’s an opportunity for you to be introduced to my circle, and to let loose a little.”  
Let loose? you glared at him and he chuckled. The urge to slap him had returned. Before you could go any further, the cake and tea had arrived. Mrs. Mead carefully cut two slices and served them. You waited patiently for Michael to take a bite, hoping he would like it.  
He chewed and swallowed, expressionless. “who made this? Do we have anew baker?” he asked Mrs. Mead; a silence took over  
“I – I did,” your nerves making you voice shake.  
He looked at you and smiled, shovelling another forkful, “its very good, you are full of surprises little dove.”  
You breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at his approval and digging into your own slice. “Thank you.”  
“You look a lot better when you smile,” he turned to you. You noticed the cream on the corner of his lip, without thinking you reached forward to wipe it off. He grabbed your wrist before you could move your hand away. Looking you in the eyes, he moved your hand and took your thumb into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it and lightly sucking; humming when he tasted the cream. You stared at him in awe, finally realising what you had done, your face flushing red. Before your thoughts could go any further, he let go of your finger with a ‘pop’.  
He stood from the table ready to take his leave. “I thoroughly enjoyed the dessert tonight; I hope this isn’t the last thing you’ll make. Unfortunately, I must take my leave for the evening, so I must bid you goodnight.” He placed a light kiss on your cheek before leaving. You sat there flustered and speechless, not noticing his grin as he left the dining room.

////

The weather on Thursday had significantly cleared up, the sun shining bright. You could almost imagine being back in your little village. Almost.  
You went to bed flustered from the previous night; the embarrassment carried into the morning. You asked for breakfast to be served in the library, where you knew you’d be alone.  
As the afternoon came around, your boredom took over yet again. You decided it was about time you saw the castle gardens, making your way outside with Medina leading the way.  
As you stepped outside, you closed your eyes and took in a breath of rose scented air. The warmth of the sun on your face brought you more comfort than you liked to admit.  
You opened your eyes and finally took in the garden. You had never seen so many roses and flowers, in so many different colours. The perfect mix of an English and French garden. You wouldn’t think that a castle with such an ominous façade would have a garden that looked so lush and bright, it looked like a different world. You now knew why there was a midsummer ball here, anyone with a garden as beautiful as this would want to show it off.  
As you were taking it all in, you noticed a boy trimming some roses. “Medina? Who’s the boy?”  
“That’s my twin Jim!”, she replied and waved him over.  
The brown-haired boy jogged over, slowing down when he noticed you. “My Lady it’s a pleasure to meet you, I apologise for the sate I’m in right now,” he said shyly.  
“Oh no please don’t apologise. Jim is it? Its very nice to meet you. What do you do around here?”  
“My Lady you are too kind,” he blushed. “I do a lot of things, I’m the stable boy, the errand boy and sometimes the gardener,” he explained.  
“so, you wear many hats,” you smiled at him. The conversation came easy with the twins, forgetting about your initial idea of walking through the garden. The feeling of being watched had started to creep up on you again, you ignored it in favour of talking to them.

////

Michael’s office overlooked the garden, his favourite part of the castle. The large windows painted a unique picture for every season, each with its own beauty.  
He kept his windows open during the summer, letting the scent of roses drift in. Today was a day like every other, he’d been in here since the morning, not expecting any disturbances.  
His workflow was disturbed by a giggle. One that he had heard exactly six months before. He shot up to look out the window. He saw you, standing amongst the roses, giggling away at something the stable boy had said. The fucking stable boy. Michaels jaw clenched in rage. Why hadn’t you laughed like that around him? Yesterday was the first smile he got from you. And now here you were, laughing along with another man, no, a boy!  
He saw red, he was going to put a stop to this. Ignoring his work and marching down to the garden.

////

Michael tried to look calm as he walked up to the three of you. “enjoying your afternoon,” putting a halt to all conversation. If looks could kill, you were sure Jim would be a pile of ashes.  
“We are, I was hoping to go on a walk through the garden,” you said, hoping to ease the tension.  
Michael's glare turned to you. “well then, lucky for you I’m free this afternoon and I can give you a personal tour,” he stated.  
He turned to Medina, “Tell Mrs. Mead that lunch and afternoon tea will be served in the garden for us,” with that, he gripped your arm and pulled you into the garden, the twins scurrying away, back to their daily tasks.  
“Michael your hurting me!” you said as you tried to peel his hand away from your arm. He eased away, gripping your hip instead, keeping you close.  
“this garden was designed by my grandmother, Constance,” ignoring what you had said just moments before. “She was French, that’s why there are French design elements, I’ll take you one day I think you’ll like Paris.”  
You kept your mouth shut, you knew exactly what he and your brother got up to in Paris.

“It really is beautiful; I’ve never seen such a variety of flowers before. I can see why people come from far and wide to see it,” you said, trying to change the conversation and diffuse the tension.  
As you both walked through the garden, Michael explained every detail to you, from the flowers to the fountains, even the statues. This was the most conversation you had had in a week, and if you were being honest, you enjoyed his company.  
He finally got that laugh out of you after telling the story of how he procured one of the statues. He could have sworn he stopped breathing when he heard it. You eyes glimmering with joy in the sun. He took your gloved hand and led you up to the gazebo in the centre of the garden. A table had been set with a light lunch and your left-over cake from last night.  
You continued to laugh as you watched him scarf it down.  
“what? Why are you laughing,” he asked, with his mouth still full.  
“I’ve never seen someone finish a whole cake before,” you smiled. His cheeks were tinged pink as he swallowed.  
“I’m a growing boy, I need to eat,” he justified.  
You shook your head, finishing your own slice, taking in your surroundings.

////

After you finished, Michael walked you back to the castle. “Your brother will be in attendance tomorrow, so if you have anything you want to send back home please do have it prepared for Saturday,” he stated.  
The prospect of seeing your brother again made you smile again. Nodding to Michael as you headed up to your room to write.  
You wrote to your mother about your first few days, the feeling of dread and the consistent nightmares. Your letter would vex your mother but who else were you going to confide in? You didn’t fully trust anyone in this house yet.  
Supper was served in your room. You went to bed by yourself again, hoping that maybe just this once those coal black eyes and sharp teeth would let you be.

////

The castle was abuzz the next morning, all staff adding final touches for the ball that evening. You were not feeling the same enthusiasm.  
The nightmare you had left you shaken and an with an unexpected ache, your limbs felt so heavy. You choose to forego breakfast you knew you wouldn’t keep it down; you swore you could taste the blood from your dreams in your mouth. You weren’t allowed to enter the ballroom as it was supposed to be a surprise for you Medina explained. You decided to take a bath before getting dressed for the evening, your dress arriving merely hours ago.  
The rose scented water helped the ache in your bones, but not much else. You were covered in blood in your dreams, no matter how hard you scrubbed the feeling of being coated in the red sticky liquid remained. You almost made yourself bleed before Medina had to stop you. You had no solid explanations for your behaviour.

  
You sat in your grand dressing room in a robe, Medina working away at your hair. You had noticed on the first day you got changed that the wardrobe in the bedroom looked a bit bare. You later learned that your clothes were kept in a dressing room, adjacent to your room. It was almost as big as the room where you slept. Full of your husbands, and now your, clothes. All luxury fabrics and colours that were far too expensive for you to afford back in the village, your brother’s education had come first. The fact that your bathroom was joined to your room was already too much for you to comprehend.  
Medina finished placing violets and lavender flowers into your hair. They matched your gown, also lavender in colour. Purple dye was expensive; you were still getting used to the wealth you had married into. You stood to get dressed and Medina hesitated.

“My Lady, this is a new type of corset and I’m not sure how to lace it, I’ll go get Mrs. Mead to help us,” she said, Leaving you alone in front of the mirror, holding your corset up.  
Just as she left; Michael walked in. You began to have flashbacks to your first day here, making you blush.  
He walked behind you, tracing his fingers over your spine, just like before.  
“What seems to be the issue this time,” he whispered.  
You hesitated. “Medina has never laced a corset like this before, she has gone to get some help,” you replied.  
“No need for that, I’m sure I can do it,” he said, beginning to pull the laces in.  
You moved to say something, but before you could, he yanked the laces tighter, making you gasp loudly. “Michael, it’s too tight!” you cried out.  
“Does it hurt little dove? Are you struggling to breath?” he taunted, grinning at you through the mirror. He continued to pull until you thought you would pass out. Struggling for air.  
“I think that should do it,” he finished tying you off. He walked around and stood in front of you, brining his face closer and licking away tears you didn’t realise had fallen. Not only were you in pain, but you were embarrassed too, bringing on a pounding headache. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your neck. Taking the matching outfit that he would wear tonight.  
“Be ready for six sharp, don’t keep me waiting, I’ll make you attend in a half dressed state if I have to,” he said, finally walking out of the room, leaving you literally breathless.  
Medina and Mead returned moments later.

“Could one of you please loosen it a little I think I might faint,” you said.  
“Who laced you up?” asked Mrs. Mead.  
“Michael”  
“If the Count has laced you up then unfortunately there’s nothing we can do, he’ll know, and he’ll be really angry. You don’t want poor Medina to be punished just because your corsets a little tight, now do you?” she responded. “you’ll just have to save your breath and not talk much.” With that she left you and Medina alone again.  
She finished dressing you. The gown was truly beautiful, but you couldn’t admire it like you would have wanted to, the corset making you feel like your ribs might crack with one wrong move. You did notice that your spine was a little straighter, Mrs. Venebale’s adjustments had worked. You felt a little better when sitting down. Medina finished off your makeup, just in time for 6 o’clock. You thanked her and you both walk out to the ballroom entrance, where Michael was waiting. He smiled at you, “you’re just on time.”  
You could hear the chattering of the guests through the door, your nerves combined with your corset made you feel ill.

Michael took your hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow, standing up straight. As the doors opened, the ballroom stilled in silence. All eyes were turned to the pair of you. Looking you up and down, you were fresh meat in a den of lions. You held your head up a little higher. You would not be intimidated by all these people who wished they were in you place, by his side. It finally hit you that you were now a Countess. All these people would watch your every move, some hoping you would fall. You were not going to give them the satisfaction.  
Your train of thought was interrupted by Michael, “Friends and Honoured guests, I welcome you all to the Langdon estates annual midsummer ball. I’d like to thank you all for travelling so far to attend, and I hope we do not disappoint, but, we never do,” the audience chuckled a little.  
“This year is extra important, for today we welcome my new bride, the Countess Y/N Langdon into our ranks, so please do give her a warm welcome.” He grabbed a wine glass from the waiter. “Let’s raise a toast in her honour tonight and may you all have a pleasant evening,” he finished. The crowd raised their glasses to you with a collective ‘cheers’, you smiled and nodded to the crowd.  
Everyone went back to their previous chatter, the music starting again. “Don’t be too nervous little dove, no one can hurt you,” Michael whispered to you. Easing your nerves a little and relaxing your posture.

Your brother came up to greet you, asking how you were and giving you updates on the village gossip. Apparently, your parents and friends missed you dearly. He would be staying the night, so you hoped to talk more at breakfast the next morning. For now, you had other guests to be introduced to.  
Many guests were names you had heard before, from your parents or they were friends of your brother. Excited to finally meet his ‘pretty little sister’. You shouldn’t have let him take that picture of you, you didn’t want to think about how many of the boys had seen it and had ‘opinions’ of you.  
“My dear, this is Duncan Shepherd, heir of the Shepherd fortune in the USA.” You smiled and held out your hand for him to shake, instead the brought it to his lips to kiss.  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Langdon, they say that you’re quite lucky to be bound to my dear friend; but meeting you, I think he’s the lucky one,” he said, smirking at Michael. You could only smile, laughing or talking too much would hurt thanks to your husband’s hand at your corseting.  
Duncan started again, “This is my dear Fiancée, Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, heiress to the Vanderbilt fortune.”  
She smiled and shook your hand, too distracted by your grand ballroom and your husband to fully pay attention. “Nice place you got here.”  
Michael and Duncan started to chat, leaving you to the side. You took in the ballroom. It, like the rest of the castle, was grand. You thought that you would never be able to comprehend Versailles, since this castle had you shocked already. The large glass windows and door were open, letting in a warm summer breeze and the fragrance of the garden the ballroom overlooked. You could see some of the guests promenading through the flowerbeds. You and your husbands attire had to be the grandest in the room, despite the room being full of wealth. You had to admit, he had excellent taste.

You were onto your third glass of wine when a woman approached you. Beautiful with Platinum blonde hair. She introduced herself as Countess Elizabeth March.  
“I do believe we’ve met before,” you stated. You had once attended a ball with her.  
“You remembered? Yes, we have, you were younger then. Look at you, you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. Although, I didn’t expect you to marry my dear little cousin.”  
“Cousin?”  
“we share a grandfather,” she replied. She looked around the room and came closer to you. “Everything is not always what it seems my dear, be careful and keep your curiosity at bay, you might not like what you find,” she finished.  
Your eyes widened in shock, what did she mean? Michael spotted you both, walking over quickly, leaving his conversation behind. “Cousin Elizabeth, I hope you’re not trying to fill my brides pretty little head with bad thoughts?”  
“Of course not dear, we were just reminiscing over old times, we attended a ball together once so we were just discussing that. I think I should get back to my husband now before he gets too drunk,” with that she left you both.

He gripped your wrist tightly, reminding you of his anger yesterday in the garden. “Whatever she said to you, pay no mind to it, she’s still bitter grandfather left her next to nothing.”  
You nodded and tried to remove his hand from your wrist. The orchestra had started a waltz and Michael dragged you to the dancefloor. You tried you hardest to keep up, the corset not allowing you to move too much without struggling to breath. You began to dance, grateful for your dancing lessons. His grip was tight on your hip, but you could barely feel it as the corset had made you go numb. His eyes never once left your form, and you kept your eyes glued to him. Fearing that he might do something if you dared to look elsewhere.  
The waltz came to close and you felt even more lightheaded than before, you thought you might have started to cry in front of all your guests. Michael sensed your shift in mood.  
“Come, lets get some fresh air and see the garden in the moonlight.” He took your hand, gently this time, and slowly walked you towards the garden.  
You couldn’t admire the beauty of the roses, too focused on steadying your breath. The fact that you’d drank three glasses of wine did not help the situation. You didn’t speak to Michael, fearing one wrong breath and you’d pass out. Your mother would die if she found out that you’d done that in front of your guests. He brought you inside and sat you down, you didn’t hear what he said, feeling too hazy. Medina brought you glass of water and you slowly sat and sipped it. Feeling embarrassed that your first ball had come to this.  
Some more time had passed, you had spoken to a few more guests, becoming more confident despite your little predicament.  
As the clock struck ten, you figured out that these parties would go on till early into the next day. Michael was nowhere to be seen, so you decided to go back to your room, slipping away without anyone noticing.

////

You got to your room and breathed a sigh of relief. Well, you tried too. You walked into your dressing room, lighting the candles on your vanity to bring some light.  
You began to unpin your hair, letting it fall and bringing some relief to you scalp. You would take the flowers out later. You rubbed your temples, trying to tame your headache.  
You removed your lavender gloves. Carefully placing them on your vanity, the lace was far too delicate for you to be rough with it.  
You stood, ready to remove your gown, before you were interrupted by the door slamming open.  
There stood Michael, his face illuminated by the soft candlelight, painted in a sneer.  
“It’s rude to leave your guests without saying goodbye.”  
You stared at him in silence, not knowing how to reply.  
He walked to you, grabbed your arm and pulled you into your bedroom. It was illuminated with more candles, ones that you don’t remember lighting. Maybe you did but couldn’t recall in your lightheaded state.

Occupied in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice that Michael had removed your gown until the cold air of the room hit you. You shivered, from the temperature drop, and in anticipation.  
He stood in front of you, making you watch as he slowly removed his gloves and his velvet dinner jacket. He moved behind you, resting his chin on you shoulder. “You’ve left quite the impression on my guests,” he whispered.  
“a – a good one?” you stuttered.  
He chuckled; you feel his breath on your neck. “They think your polite and quite pretty. You seem to have the same effect on them that you have on me.”  
You didn’t know what he meant, so you asked, “w- what effect do I have on you?”  
He took your small hand in his large one sending shocks of electricity through you. Your hands had been in gloves for as long as you can remember, only taking them off in the evenings or when you were getting dressed. Just this small action, of bare hands touching, was far too intimate for you.  
He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your palms, and then your fingertips. You were glad he couldn’t see you and you were sure you looked redder than the roses left on the nightstand. He then brought your hand down to the front of his trousers, pressing you palm against something hard, rutting up against you. Like every good young lady, you were a virgin, but you had heard stories from your married friends, you mother even giving you a brief talk a few days before you got married. To be in the situation right now had you feeling a little tense.

“relax little dove, I won’t hurt you, I promise,” he said, noticing your hesitation.  
He moved your hair over your shoulder and began placing kisses along your shoulder blades and nape. Each kiss adding more fire to your belly.  
He slowly began unlacing you, taking his time, watching you relax and finally breath properly. The numbness in your skin subsiding, you could feel the blood rush back in.  
The final string was pulled, and Michael dropped your corset before you could hold it up. Now fully exposed to the cold air and to him.  
He ran his fingers along the angry red indents, making you hiss. His hand calming some of the sting.  
“Did it hurt little one? To have it so tight? I almost made you cry in front of everyone.” You could hear the smile in his voice. His fingers glided from your back, around your waist to your stomach.

He pulled you back to his chest, feeling the silk of his shirt against you. You rested your head on his shoulder. Bearing you neck to him. he peppered light kisses down the side of your neck. You moaned when he reached a sensitive spot. He stopped and sucked at it, causing your breathing to get heavier. Nothing had ever felt this good before.  
“you make the prettiest noises; I think I'd like to hear some more.” The baritone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. He let go of you. Mewling at the loss of his warmth. You stood there in just your panties, bringing your arms up around your chest. The shuffling of fabric could be heard behind you. Then it stopped. You were unsure of what he was going to do next, but you daren’t turn around. 

You felt his hands on you again, leading you to the bed and you climbed on. He stood there facing you. He had removed all but his own underwear. You think maybe you’d seen the image that was in front of you in the statues in the garden. The candle light illuminating his chiselled features just right. You knew there and then that Eros himself envied your husband.  
You felt even shier under his gaze, surely this was a dream and you could never reach his standards.  
He held you face in his hands, gently, as if you’d break. He brushed his thumb over your lips, before putting it in your mouth. You felt the need to suck, so you looked down and did; Michael groaned.  
“Look at me, don’t take your eyes of me tonight, I want to see everything,” he removed his finger from your mouth with a light ‘Pop’. Holding your chin and pulling your face up to his. He looked at you once more, before placing his lips on yours.  
You closed your eyes and eased into the kiss. It was gentle and slow at first, before it became rougher. He kissed you like a man starved. Exploring your mouth with his tongue, only pulling away for air. You both looked flushed, a string of saliva still connecting you both. You leaned forward to kiss him again, running you fingers up his neck and through his hair.  
You were pushed back into the pillows, Michael peppering kisses and bites down your neck and breasts. His thumb brushed over your nipple, causing you to squeak out.  
You were such a sensitive little thing, and he loved it.

He took one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You couldn’t say anything, the only thing leaving your mouth were moans and mewls.  
He moved to the other and began to trail his hand down your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your panties.  
He let go of your breast, looking at you with spit glossed lips, before moving to kiss down your stomach. His fingers moved down to your core, causing you to jolt at the sensation. It was all so foreign to you. You’d never even touched yourself, for fear of someone finding out.  
“Look at you, you’re soaked, and all for me hmm.” You looked at him and shyly nodded.  
He slowly began to peel your panties away from you, revealing your wet lips to him. Totally untouched.  
He ran his fingers through your slick folds. The sensation making you want to snap your legs shut.  
He smacked your thigh. “Keep them open,” he said, gripping your knees and pulling your thighs apart. He placed his thumb on your sensitive little nub, and you cried out. You felt so good, no one had told you that this would feel good.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long,” he said, looking up at you. He smiled and brought is head between your thighs, licking a broad stripe through your folds. Your hands shot out, gripping his silky locks. You wanted more. And he gave. He licked and sucked like a man deprived of water, holding your thighs apart and groaning into you.  
So lost in your pleasure you didn’t notice him bringing a finger up to your entrance, until you felt an unfamiliar stretch. You cried out at the little sting. “Relax little dove, it’ll be a little uncomfortable but relax, it’ll ease up. You whimpered and nodded, Michael pumped his finger in and out, adding a second when you eased up a little, “You’re so tight and wet for me, I could spend the rest of my life here.”  
Those final words made the coil in your belly snap, making you grind onto his fingers and tongue. You cried out in ecstasy, letting the unfamiliar but pleasant feeling take over you.  
Michael eased his fingers out of you and brought himself up to you. His mouth and chin glistened in the candlelight. Making you want to hide your face in embarrassment. He stopped you before you could. Bringing your lips to his, letting you taste yourself.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and looking you in the eyes, “Don’t hide from me, you look divine.”  
He took your hand again and brought it to his length. “This is what you do to me, feel it, it’s for you and only for you,” he says.  
You were feeling a little bold, running your fingers up his length, causing him to groan out. He stopped you and removed his underwear.  
You were now both bare to each other, just as Adam and Eve.  
“i- it’s so big, how will it f- fit?” You stuttered out. Your nervousness coming back.  
He shushed you and pushed you back onto the pillows. “I told you, you need to relax or else it will hurt.”

He lined himself up at your entrance, running his length through your folds, coating his cock with your wetness.  
“Look at me as I split you in half,” he ordered, his hands gripping your hips like a vice.  
You looked at him and slowly, he began to ease himself inside. Your eyes started to water at the stretch, you didn’t think he was going to fit. He held your hand, letting you squeeze down as he bottomed out. Both of you letting out a moan. He stayed there, letting you get used to his size. He kissed away the tears that fell.  
“Please move,” you moaned out.

Michael started a slow pace at first, getting you used to the feel and his rhythm. You felt like you’d split in half, but it felt so good. You brought your hands to his shoulders and your legs around his waist. Wanting to feel him closer, to have him deeper. He picked up the pace, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. Your moans filled the air, you were sure your guests could hear you. But they didn’t matter, no one did, no one but Michael mattered to you right now.  
You felt the coil in your belly begin to tighten. Michael felt your walls begin to pulse. He brought his hand down and started to rub circles on your clit.  
“M- Michael I think I’m..”  
“That’s it angel, cum around me like I know you can, give into your pleasure.”  
With those words, you snapped, cumming with a cry around his cock. You saw stars wishing that you could feel this high forever. His own face was twisted in pleasure, as he came and painted your walls with his warm seed. “Fuck angel look at you, your milking me for all I’m worth. Who knew you’d have such a greedy little pussy.”  
He kissed you again, holding you tightly, slowly easing out of you as he softened up.  
You were so tired, so drained but so satisfied. Michael lay down beside you, pulling you into his arms. Your head lay on his chest as he murmured sweet praises at you, kissing your forehead, easing you from your high. You looked up at him with a satisfied grin, and he grinned back. “you’ve been so good for me,” he whispered.  
You kissed his nose and giggled, laying your head back on his chest, drifting away in the warmth of his arms.  
You slept peacefully that night, your nightmares leaving you alone, just for tonight.


	5. Sleepless Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is short but it's important. Thank u for keeping up with this it means a lot.

You were startled awake at 3 am by what you thought was a scream. You shot up in a daze, looking to your side and began to panic, Michael wasn’t there.   
Just as you were about to get out of bed, Michael entered the room again, dressed in his robe, with his hair tied back.  
“What’s the matter my love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  
You steadied you breathing, trying to focus on him. “I heard a scream.”  
Michael looked at you, utterly confused. He climbed into bed beside you and pulled you into his arms. “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming? The wind has significantly picked up outside, it must have startled you awake,” he assured.   
Where had Michael just been? Why had he left the bed?  
Too tired to ask, you laid down and went back to sleep.  
It must have been the wind.  
////  
You slept undisturbed till 10, missing breakfast. You woke up feeling incredibly sore everywhere. You weren’t expecting it to be this bad.  
Medina came in to help you get ready for the day, having already drawn a bath for you. You stumbled into the bathroom. Getting a look at yourself in the mirror. Your whole body was covered in little bruises, some on your neck and breasts painfully purple. Your ribs had bruised from the tight corset. Had he really been that rough with you? You couldn’t remember.   
“My lady? Did you have trouble sleeping last night? You look a little gaunt,” asked Medina.   
You furrowed your brows, “no, I slept like a baby last night.”  
You shook your head and got into the bath, scrubbing away some dried fluid from last nights ‘activities’.  
////  
Medina had made your bed when you got out. The thought of someone knowing what you were up to last night making you turn red. Instead of the usual rose, this time Michael had left a whole bouquet of roses on the nightstand, making you smile.   
The dress you wore today had a high neck, enough to cover your bruising. You left your hair down to cover up the remaining purple and red peeking out.   
You were feeling a little bolder today, so you decided not to wear your gloves, hoping to feel Michaels bare hands again.  
////  
You made your way to the conservatory for afternoon tea. The room let in just the right amount of sun, illuminating the green foliage inside it. You husband and brother already at the table, you were surprised however, to see Mr. Shepherd at the table too.   
“Good afternoon my love, did you sleep well?” asked Michael, pulling out your chair beside him.  
You smiled at him, “yes I did thank you for asking.” He gave you cheek a quick peck before seating himself; your cheeks dusted in a light blush.  
You brother made a face in mock disgust, “this is so gross, I do not need to see you getting cosy with my sister Langdon,” he laughed.  
You kicked him under the table, making him yelp out. “I’m telling mother you still have a temper,” he whined.  
Mrs Mead interrupted you with your meal. Serving all those seated. You looked up to Duncan a little confused. “Will Miss. Vanderbilt not be joining us?” you asked.  
Duncan smiled at you, “she left after the party last night, she has business to attend to in the States so needed to get Liverpool port in time for morning.”  
“Oh, are you staying a little longer?”  
“My business is expanding to Europe, who better to partner with that Mr. Langdon over here. Businessmen like him are rare to find these days,” he finished.  
Sensing that you wanted to know more, Michael gripped your rib under the table. It still hurt from last night and you almost cried out. It was a warning. You decided not to press any further.  
“So,” Gabriel started, “have you taken her ‘riding’ yet?”. The boys started to snicker.   
You looked around confused, what was so funny about horse-riding?  
“I didn’t know you were a horse rider Michael,” you said. The men continued to laugh. There was clearly some innuendo in your brother’s statement; not a fan of being picked on, you kicked him again.   
“Oh, dear little sister how I miss picking on you.”  
Well I don’t miss being picked on, especially in front of company,” you seethed.   
“expect a strongly worded letter from mother soon, I can’t wait to tell her about you being violent towards me,” he teased.  
“talking about mother, when do you leave? I have a letter for her.”  
“In an hour,” he replied.  
The conversation moved to business matters that you did not care for. After you finished your lunch, you excused yourself to get you letter for your mother. You hoped your brother wouldn’t read it; you’d never hear the end of it.  
////  
As you came downstairs, you noticed the Michael had changed into his travelling attire. Where was he going?  
“Are you going somewhere?” you asked.  
Michael took you off to the side and held both your hands in his ringed ones. “My dear, as Mr. Shepherd has mentioned before, they are expanding to Europe. I must go to London with him, as assurance for the investors. So, we will be travelling down with your brother.”  
You looked at him, shocked. “B-but that’s so quick, we’ve only been married a week. Can I at least come with you?”  
He sighed and brought your chin up to make eye contact, “I know my love, I don’t want to leave so soon either, but unfortunately business does not wait for anyone. I cannot take you with me, there is not enough time to pack and I won’t have enough time for you when we get there. You’re in more than capable hands here, I’ll be back on Wednesday I promise,” he said.   
He gently took the letter from your hands, “I’ll make sure this get to its destination,” he assured.   
“LANGDON HURRY UP!” Duncan was heard shouting form outside.  
Michael kissed your hands, “I have to take my leave now, please take care of yourself.”  
You nodded, “I’ll miss you.”  
“and I you,” he replied. He took your right hand in his, removing the large obsidian ring on his finger, placing it on your thumb. “I leave a part of me with you.” He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, before turning and leaving through the door. You moved to the doorway to wave them off and watch them leave.   
With your husband gone, the house had fallen silent.  
////  
Your nightmares had returned that night, seeming to get worse. You dreamt of the garden. It lay barren, the flowers and leaves all dead, leaving twisted branches instead. The water features of the garden spurted blood, you could smell it as you walked through. The worst of all were the statues. They were no longer stone. Instead, the corpses of the people you loved, twisted to look like the statues they replaced. You were sure this was hell.  
////  
You woke with a pounding headache, worse than the day before. Medina looked at you concerned.   
“My lady? Is everything alright? You look sick.”  
“I don’t know Medina; I don’t feel well. Could you please bring my meals up to my room?” you asked.  
She nodded and left to get your breakfast.  
You spent the rest of the day in bed, in and out of sleep. It seemed that sleeping during the day did not give you nightmares, or any dreams at all. But it was all you could ask for right now.  
Mrs Mead brought your evening meal to you, a nice hearty soup. She put her hand on your forehead, checking your temperature, “You seem to have a little bit of a fever, some rest and this soup should help.”  
All you could do was nod, far too exhausted to talk. The soup warmed you up, but halfway through drinking it, you began to cry. It remined you of your mother, how you missed her so. You wished she was with you, to hold you and nurse you back to health like she had done for years before.  
All you could do now was sob into Mrs Meads shoulder, who seemed hesitant to offer any comfort.  
Your night terrors visited you again that night.  
////  
On Monday, you attempted to take your mind off things. At first you tried to read, but the words on the pages just bled together. The kitchen staff wouldn’t let you bake that day either. You tried to visit the garden, but every corner remined you of your dreams. You ran back inside.  
You decided you weren’t going to sleep that night. You couldn’t. You’d rather wake a thousand nights than have one more nightmare.  
To stop yourself from nodding off, you elected to wander around the castle halls. You placed a fresh candle in the chamberstick, lighting it just before you left. The halls were cold, and you wished you wore a robe and some shoes. All you had was your nightgown, trailing behind you. The neckline was far too low for your liking, but you weren’t the one that had commissioned the dress.   
Thunder boomed in the sky, brining with it heavy rain. You tried to make your way back to your chambers but must have taken a wrong turn. You had no idea where you were, you had never ventured into this part of the castle before. Panic set in and you attempted to retrace your steps. Instead you ended at a dead end. Your candle didn’t do much to cut through the darkness.   
You noticed a glimmer of gold in front of you. You brought your head up to take a closer look, it was a picture frame. You craned your neck up further, it was an oil painting, a portrait. The man in the painting looked like Michael, but older. This must have been his father, Lucien. The face of the woman next to him was messily painted over in red. Was this Michael’s mother?  
You felt that Lucien’s eyes were staring at you, looking into the depths of your soul. Lightening cracked in the sky, and for a moment, you saw the visage on the portrait flash into a grotesque image; like the faces you saw in your dreams.  
You screamed and dropped your candle, the flame catching onto your nightgown, setting it alight. You tried to put it out, but exhaustion finally took over and you collapsed. You could hear muffled voices but couldn’t decipher anything they said.  
As you eyes closed, you swore the man in the portrait grinned at you, with sharp teeth and a bloody mouth.


	6. Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your husband returns from his trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEE HAW have fun kids. Comments are much appreciated. I'm also not a doctor so I made this shit up lol

You woke to the sensation of someone running their fingers through your hair. Slowly opening your eyes; it must have been the afternoon. You don’t remember going to bed.   
You started to whimper; your leg hurt so much. Why did it hurt? What happened while you wandered the halls?  
“Shh shh my love, it’s alright, you’ll be better soon,” cooed the voice. You looked up, confused, why was Michael here?  
“M- Michael, why are you here a day early? Did something happen?” you questioned. As you tried to get up, the pain in your leg shot through you, bringing tears to your eyes.  
He gently pushed you back down, wiping the tears.  
“It’s Friday my dear,” he stated.  
“What do you mean its Friday? I went for a walk on Monday. And why does my leg hurt?” the questions just spilled out of you.  
Michael lay next to you, holding your hand in his, stroking it with his thumb. Just feeling the warmth again calmed you down a little.  
“I arrived on Wednesday,” he started. “Mrs Mead found you in the servants’ hallway on Monday night. You had collapsed from your fever and set fire to your night gown in the process. The fire was put out, but …” he hesitated. “your leg has been burnt a little.”   
A wave of nausea hit you. You finally looked down to your leg, it was wrapped in gauze. As you looked you felt the pain get worse, finally acknowledging your injury.   
“The shock and the fever combined had you out cold for a few days. You did wake occasionally, albeit you were a little delirious.”  
“H-How bad is it?” you asked.  
“second degree nearer to your foot, first up to your thigh. Mrs Mead had put you out very quickly. The physician is due to visit today to check the progress, to see if it’ll scar or not,” he explained.  
You started to cry. From the pain, from the fever, from the turn your fate seemed to have taken since you married this man. Why had the universe been so cruel to you? Who had you wronged? Had you done something in your past life and was this your punishment? He pulled you into his chest, warm arms enveloping you. He stroked his fingers through your forehead, letting you sob into him wholeheartedly.  
“I want to se my m-mother,” you cried.  
“Oh little dove, I was already on my way back before any letters could reach me. You know I would have brought her with me if I could, I’d give you the moon if u asked.”  
You cried until you tired out, but the pain was still unbearable. You just wanted to be held and to sleep.  
“No sleeping for you Mrs Langdon, you need to eat something before you put your head down again,” Michael stated. As if on que, Mrs Mead came in with a tray of food. A hearty soup and some bread, the same as before.  
“Dinner time seems to be the crying hour for you,” she joked. You pressed you face further into Michaels chest, embarrassed at her observation. She set the tray down and left, leaving just you and your husband. He rearranged the pillows so you could sit up comfortably and brought you meal over. As you reached for your soup, he slapped your hand away.   
“You’re sick, I’ll help you.”  
“Michael, my leg is burnt, not my hands,” you stated.   
“That is of no concern to me, now say ‘ahh’,” he replied, holding the spoon up to you. You hesitated and looked away before opening your mouth. You knew he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. He fed you the rest of the meal; time flew as you asked about his trip, wanting to take your mind off the pain.  
////  
You had fallen asleep again by the time the doctor had arrived. Woken by a cold press on your forehead, your fever had returned.   
“Good afternoon Lady Langdon, its nice to see you finally awake. I’m Dr Montgomery and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he introduced.   
You could only nod in reply, the pain making you unable to speak.   
“I’ve already checked your leg; Medina has changed the dressing. I suggest bed rest until next week. The wound will take a few weeks to fully heal; you’re extremely lucky, the wound isn’t too deep so scarring will be minimal,” he finished.  
“Will it still hurt?” you asked.  
“Your pain should reduce in a few days, however your fever is making it feel worse, so I have prescribed some Laudanum. All I can suggest for your illness is rest, and that too shall pass.”  
“Why am I sick?” you asked again.  
Dr Montgomery sighed, “It isn’t uncommon in new brides. Especially moving from the south to the north. It’s a sort of homesickness. The faster you get accustomed to the temperature and new surroundings, the better.”  
Something deep in your gut told you that he was lying, your sickness was caused by something else. And what about your nightmares? What could explain those? A simple fever could not be the culprit. But you kept your mouth shut, this man was not to be trusted. He left you alone with Medina, and you drifted off again.  
////  
The laudanum was helping with the pain, but the constant daze it kept you in frustrated you. Michael had moved his office into your room for now to keep an eye on you; you had tried to leave the room far too many times to leave you unattended. The rustling of paper and the scratch of the pen remined you that you were being watched. Despite that, you still tried to get out of bed.  
“How many times do you have to be put back in bed?” you heard from the other side of the room. His tone was stern.  
“I’m getting sick of staying in bed all day,” you slurred out.  
Michael sighed and walked over to you. He lifted you and carried you over to his desk, sitting down and placing you in his lap. “There, now you’re not in bed.”  
You couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed. He adjusted you so the pair of you were comfortable. The scratching of the pen starting again.  
“what are you doing,” you asked.  
“I’m finalising plans for a trip.”  
“You’re leaving again?”  
“I’m taking you with me. Once your leg is healed enough, we’ll be going to Paris,” he smiled at you.  
Paris. How you hated the sound of that city. Your brother’s stories echoing through your head, the anger breaking through the haze of the medication. “I don’t want to go.”  
“Why not, it’ll be our honeymoon and it truly is a beautiful city, quite romantic at night.”  
You answered before you could stop yourself, “of course you’d know all about the city at night.”  
Michael stopped writing, putting his pen down and inhaling. “And what do you mean by that hmm?”  
“Nothing,” you replied, you could feel the rage building inside him.   
He grabbed your face, making you look up at him. “Answer me properly. What are you talking about?”  
“My brother spoke about your grand tour,” you mumbled.  
His nostrils flared and his grip on your jaw tightened enough to bruise. The drugs only allowed you the feel the pressure and not the pain that would have come with such a tight grip. You winced anyway.  
“Gabriel needs his tongue cut out it seems.”  
“Sho itsh all true then?” you tried to get out, he was still squishing your cheeks. He finally let go of your face. Pushing your hair from your face and stroking your jaw instead.   
“I am a changed man Y/N. I was a different person two years ago. I was young and unmarried. I’d be a fool to betray you in such a way,” he sighed.  
“I’d kill you if your ever did,” you smiled at him, the Laudanum seemed to have removed all filters, making you say what was on your mind. You lightly pecked his lips, settling into his chest for another nap.   
////  
You had been given the clear for your bandages to come off, and your fever had gone. You decided to have a bath while you were alone for the first time in almost two weeks. The water was a little cooler than you would have liked it to be, but you didn’t want to agitate your burns. You tried to relax, thinking about the past few weeks of your life. You had been married almost a month now. There was a sense of foreboding before you walked down the aisle that day; every single event since has just made it worse. The nightmares, Michael’s volatile attitude, the painting and now being scarred for life; it all weighed heavy on you. You think that you might be driven insane, or maybe even killed. You didn’t know. would you even last the year?  
The painting. You had forgotten about it in all the commotion. It had scared you enough to almost die. Why was Michael’s mothers face painted over? Did he want to forget her?   
Your thoughts stopped in their tracks as the feeling of being watched overwhelmed you. Just like the first night you were here. You got out of the tub, carefully drying yourself off before heading to the dressing room.  
////  
The dressing room was cold as usual, making goose bumps rise all over your skin. You caught a glimpse of your scar in the mirror, moving your robe aside to get a closer look. It started just above your ankle, all the way up to your outer hip. You let your robe hang loosely around your shoulders, as you untied it to inspect the top of the scar. The skin there was sensitive, it felt different to the healthy skin around it. It made you a little self-conscious. No one would ever see it, but you would always know it was there, a reminder of the fear you let overcome you, of your fragile state of mind. You felt weak, so far from the girl you used to be. Your reputation in the local area of your home was one of an intelligent and brave girl, a tongue so sharp that even the priest had banned you from attending church on occasions. But here you were now, pathetic, letting your dreams out of all things, control your actions.  
“it seems that Aphrodite herself has blessed me with her presence today.”  
You quickly went to retie your robe and cover your leg, but Michael stopped you before you could. He rested his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. His hair was damp, and he donned a robe; he must have had a bath too.   
His pulled your robe aside, exposing you leg to him. You wished he would never see it.  
“Don’t you see what I see? Does the mirror not show you the form that occupies my mind?” he asked, as he trailed his fingers over your scar, you almost wept at the tenderness of his touch. He let go of your waist, moving in front of you before he knelt down.   
“Michael! What are you doing? Get up from there please!” you cried out. This man, who many saw as a god, had knelt before you. He looked at you with a hunger and devotion seen in the faces of the worshippers in temples of the ancient world. He paid no mind to your distress. Instead moving to kiss your scar. He started at your ankle, looking up at you as he made his way up, leaving no part untouched. He stopped briefly to pull the stool behind you, making you sit down. Without a word, he started working his way up to the inside of your thighs, alternating between kisses and little bites.  
His actions ignited a fire in your belly. Making you shift around to alleviate some of the tension you were feeling. He stopped and rested his cheek on your thigh, you ran your fingers through his now dry hair.   
“There’s a hunger in me that only you can satiate,” he whispered. He pried your thighs apart, looking directly at your wet folds.   
“You wouldn’t be cruel enough to let me starve, now would you?” He ran his fingers through your wetness, making you moan and grip his hair.  
He hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you towards his face. You had to hold the edge of the stool to stop yourself from falling back.   
He licked a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. The sensation was so foreign to you, but you wanted more. He licked and sucked on your lips and clit, like a man truly starved. You felt his groans vibrating through you, bringing you closer to the edge.   
“M- Michael, that feels so good,” you moaned out. You could feel him smirk as you gripped his hair tighter, lightly scratching his scalp in appreciation. He dove in further, his nose pressed against you as he fucked you with his tongue. He felt you begin to tighten around him and moved up to suck on your clit, he looked you in the eyes as he brought you over the edge, licking you through your aftershocks.   
Both of you were breathing heavily as he finally pulled away, looking up at you with your juices covering the bottom half of his face. He got up and pulled you into a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on him. “You taste divine.”  
You could see his hardness through his robe. You averted your gaze, “can I return the favour?   
“My my, my little dove has gotten bolder hmm?” moving to make eye contact with you.   
“Some other time, I do not want to agitate the burn and I need to be inside you.” He pulled you from the stool, sitting down, before seating you on his lap to face the mirror. “I need you to see what I see,” he said, as he untied his robe, bringing out his dick and running it over the wetness of your folds. You mewled and tried not to look in the mirror.   
“Look at us as I push into you,” he ordered, “look at your greedy pussy swallowing me whole.” He pushed into you, making you watch as he did so, the sight making you wetter than before. He bottomed out with a groan and sat still. He brought your hand over your stomach, pressing it down. “Can you feel me inside you? I’m so deep.”  
You pressed further and made him hiss. He gripped your hips, lifting you up and down, you matched your pace with his. The pair of you mesmerised by the sight of the image in the mirror, the sight of him splitting you in half. You turned to kiss him, your tongues dancing as you picked up the pace.   
Neither of you lasted long, you were already sensitive from before; he was (you hoped) pent up from all those days away. The coil finally snapped, you squeezed around him with cries of his name. He followed behind, painting your insides with his seed. He pulled out and you both watched as your mixed fluids seeped out of you.   
“Look at yourself, you must be a goddess,” Michael stated. You looked at your fucked-out form in the mirror, lips swollen from kisses, hair mussed, and skin covered in a sheen of sweat from the exertion. In the haze of pleasure, you could almost mistake yourself for a carnal version of Botticelli’s ‘Venus’. You smiled at the thought.   
“We’ll need to bathe again,” you pointed out, making you and Michael laugh.  
////  
You had your second bath of the day together. Getting ready for the evening; dinner would be served in your room as you needed to sleep early; you left for Paris tomorrow. Michael had brushed and braided your hair, and you had done the same for him. As you waited for MRs Mead to bring your meal, Michael had brought out a box, one that you had recognised.   
“Your mother sent this for you, your embroidery seems to be quite well known in the area and she was surprised you forgot to pack your materials.”   
Michael handed you the box. It was your grandmothers, then your mothers, and now it was yours. How had you forgotten your most prized possession?  
“Thank you so much Michael,” you hugged him. “It’s a family heirloom,” you explained, opening the compartments. You floss and needles were just as you left them. Michael reclined next to you, watching you inspect the item.   
“I’m sure it’ll continue to be passed down generations of Langdons,” he said. You blushed at the thought of children, you hadn’t given it much thought before.   
“I’ll take you to the finest cloth merchants Paris has to offer to get more materials for your liking,” he smiled at you.   
“I’m sure Mrs Venebale will know some locally?”  
“Nonsense. Why go to Paris if not to take full advantage of what the city has to offer? We can also see what the new seasons fashions are.”  
You raised your eyebrow, “I see, this tip is for you to dress yourself isn’t it?”  
“Well my love, the wardrobe does not curate itself. Personal shopping trips are must in high society,” he winked at you.   
You laughed and shook your head, thinking about your next project, trying to calm your nerves for the trip.


	7. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Froliking in Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The itallics are spoken in French

The journey to Paris had been a long, you spent most of it sleeping off the remnants of your fever in Michaels arms. Michael had spent the time writing away and reading documents in languages you were never taught. But you had finally arrived. The sights, sounds and smells had you in awe. The city was worlds away from your gloomy English castle.

You were staying in a large townhouse in the city, passed down to Michael from his grandmother. It was clear that old French nobility once resided in this place. The balconies were lush with greenery and gave you beautiful views of the city. The interior was illuminated with natural light during the daytime. The soft glow of the candles added to the romance at night.

Michael had surprised you with a new wardrobe just for the trip, waiting ready for your arrival. After taking a nap, he took you on a boat tour of the river, seeing the famous sights if the city in person. That night he had a meal prepared in your townhouse, the finest of French cuisine.

////

On your second day, you went shopping. Hearing the prices of some of the items your husband had bought almost made you faint. He made good on his promise and took you to the finest cloth merchants in Europe. The shelves were lined with the finest Chinese silks, Indian cottons and the softest of velvets. Your mind was racing with what you could do with them, the designs you could bring to life.

“Anything you want my love, it’s all yours,” Michael whispered to you, kissing your hand.

You walked further into the shop, going to inspect the fabrics you wanted, Michael stayed behind to talk to the shop owner.

 _“What happened to the blonde one?”_ asked the owner. Michael just shrugged. _“Poor girl, she’s very pretty but nothing lasts that long once you have your hands on it. I always wonder who you’ll bring in next.”_

Michael glared at him, _“Keep your mouth shut, you’re lucky she does not speak the language, she’s got sharp ears. To answer your question, she will be the last.”_

The owner looked sceptical _, “that’s what you said last time.”_

They stopped talking as you made your way back, having chosen the fabrics you wanted. The owner went to cut your pieces for you, totalling up the bill and preparing to send them to your current lodgings. You smiled at Michael, “the bill is still less than what you spent two hours ago.”

“well, you can’t put a price on looking good,” he laughed. You both walked out, onto the next destination.

////

Your third day was spent in museums. You think you saw Michael’s face in the statues from the ancient world.

Most of your day was spent in the louvre, looking at the pieces you had only read about, never thinking you’d be able to see them.

“This museum is very big my love, is there anything in particular you’d like to see?” Michael asked.

“’Psyche revived by cupids kiss’,” you blurted out.

Michael chuckled, “Of course my love,” gripping your hand and leading you towards the statue.

You gasped as you saw it, gripping Michael’s hand tighter. “It’s so pretty in person.” The sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the faces on the statues. Cupid’s look of relief and adoration was prominent in the detailing.

Michael looked at you the same way.

“Do you like it my love?” he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes, but Michael we’re in public you’re being scandalous,” you chided.

“Hmm?” he raised his eyebrow. He trailed his hand down your arm, holding your gloved hand, before slowly pulling the glove off. You blushed at the gesture, looking around to see if anyone was watching. He began to place kisses on your cheek and neck. Stroking your now bare palm with his thumb. The action making you shudder.

“M- Michael no is not the time nor place!” you blushed.

Before he could go any further, you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. It was Mr. Shepherd.

“Nice to see you here Langdon,” He greeted, winking at you. Michael huffed and stopped what he was doing, standing up straight and putting your glove back on your hand.

“Wish I could say the same about you Shepherd,” Michael bit back.

“Fine then, I’ll talk to your beautiful wife,” Duncan turned to you, “How are you Lady Langdon? I hope your injury is feeling a little better now.”

“I’m very well thank you for asking, I’m healing well thanks to my Husband,” you replied. Michael’s grip on your wrist got painfully tighter. “How’s Miss Vanderbilt?”

“She’s well, still in the US, I’ll be returning to her after a stop in Geneva.”

“We have things to do today, so if you’ll excuse us,” Michael interrupted.

Michael started to drag you out, but he was stopped by Duncan, “Join me for dinner at least?”

Michael huffed and mumbled a ‘fine’.

The three of you headed to dinner, the conversation about business, making you zone out. You were brought back to the conversation by Michaels hand trailing up your thigh, you bit your tongue to keep your sounds at bay. He took your hand under the table, placing it over his trousers, making you feel his hardness. He moved your hand up and down, giving you a steady rhythm and encouraging you to do it by yourself. You lightly stroked him through his slacks, feeling him twitch occasionally.

“I’ll be back,” Shepherd left the table. Michael stopped your hand.

“Get under the table,” he ordered. You looked at him, mortified. He rolled his eyes and pulled you under. Sitting Infront of you and pulling his hardness out. “Keep quiet,” He whispered. “Open your mouth,” Stroking his thumb over your lips.

You looked up at him with your doe-like eyes, hesitating a little before slowly opening your mouth. He rubbed his pre-cum around him, before pulling your head towards him. “Don’t bite,” he warned. You took him into your mouth, Blushing at the situation. He hissed at the feeling of your tongue working around him. He composed himself as Duncan came back.

“Where’d your wife go?”

“She’s feeling a little nauseous, she’s gone upstairs to rest a bit, she’ll be back for dessert,” he punctuated with a thrust, making you gag.

“What was that noise?”

“what noise?”

Duncan shook his head, thinking he must be hearing things. Michael tugged on your hair as a warning.

The conversation started again, you slowly moved up and down his length, using your hand for what you couldn’t take yet. He began to twitch again, taking breaks in the conversation and blaming his ‘tiredness’. All Duncan had to do was look down or move his feet slightly forward to catch you out in this humiliating position. But you had to admit, the thrill of it made you tingle.

Duncan finally left the table again. Michael pushed the table back and looked down at you, grinning. “If only he knew what a whore you were for me,” gripping your hair and thrusting into your mouth rapidly. He came with a loud groan. “Don’t you dare swallow, or I’ll take you in front of him and the whole staff, understood?” he warned.

You pulled off with a ‘pop’, rapidly nodding with tears in your eyes. He helped you up back to your seat. Readjusting your dress and hair so you’d look presentable. He took a napkin and wiped your eyes. Kissing your cheek before Duncan made his way back.

“Feeling any better Mrs Langdon?” All you could do was nod.

“She gets quiet when she’s sick, so don’t mind her,” Michael waved off, resuming whatever conversation they were having, you occasionally nodding to any questions asked to you.

Duncan finally left after what felt like forever. Michael turned to you, gripping your chin. “Open your mouth little dove, I want to see if you can follow instructions.”

You opened your mouth, showing him the mixture of your spit and his salty semen. He hummed in approval, moving your head around, watching it coat the inside of your mouth. “Always a good girl for me.”

He kissed you, open mouthed and tasting himself. Some of it dripping out and down your chins. He pulled away and made you swallow what remained. You finally looked at him again. Your lips both swollen and mouths glistening. The image was so erotic, you leaned up to kiss him again, hard; gripping his hair and pulling him closer, wanting to do nothing more than consume him, to swallow him whole. He pulled away, looking at you with glassy eyes, “Lets take this upstairs,” dragging you up to return the favour, to satiate the hunger.

////

The fourth day was spent at Versailles, you think that Michael would fit right into a place like this, the thought making you giggle.

“What is it?”

“I think this place is very you, that’s all.”

“What do you mean about that?”

“gaudy, over the top and very expensive,” you smiled.

He stopped and stared at you, looking offended. You started to laugh, hard enough to start crying.

“I am no longer sharing my desserts with you,” he pouted, sticking his tongue out at you.

The joy had almost made you forget about his antics in the city two years ago.

Almost.

On your fourth night, you had been invited to dinner by the Director of the Robichaux Ballet company. Constance Langdon had been a patron of the arts in France, Michael’s own mother was a known cellist. He had continued to sponsor the dance academy after Constance had passed.

You were greeted by Miss Cordelia Goode, the former Prima and now director.

“Lord and Lady Langdon, what an honour it is to have you here tonight.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here, I’ve heard a lot about the talents of your girls, news travels as far as my little village too,” you replied.

She took you on a tour of the facility, finally leading you to the dining room, where you were to dine with the current roster.

“This is our new Prima, Mallory,” Cordelia presented a mousey brunette, Michael greeted her and kissed her hand, sending a wave of jealousy through you.

You were finally seated for the feast. Only able to speak to some of the girls as most of them only spoke French. A red-head teacher, Myrtle, looked at you with worry, but you dismissed it. Michael and Cordelia getting into a heated conversation.

 _“You know why I’ve invited you Michael, where’s Madison?”_ quizzed Cordelia.

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”_

_“My former Prima followed you back to England, after you had taken her honour. You promised marriage, remember? And now you bring another bride here?”_

_“Madison never came to me. I have no letters, no correspondence. Are you trying to accuse me of something?”_ Michael sipped his wine.

 _“Then where is she? My best dancer would not just run off like that,”_ she shot back.

_“She might have wanted a different life and never came back, using me as an excuse to get away.”_

_“She would have at least written to me. Does your wife know about her? about your nights in this city? About your affair with the most sought out dancer in Europe?”_

_“No, she does not. And it will stay that way. I’m putting my past behind me now, looking forward to a future,”_ he held your hand.

 _“She’ll find out what type of monster you are soon enough, you’re lucky she doesn’t speak French,”_ she ended the conversation, going back to her own meal. Michael started to converse with Mallory, his new beneficiary.

There was a slight issue with Michael’s attempts to keep secrets. You spoke and understood French, he just didn’t know.

You sat and silently picked at your food. Myrtle gave you a knowing look. You hoped she understood that you wanted to keep your unknown skill a secret.

The revelation of the missing girl and Michael’s former lover weighed heavy on your mind. Were you just a replacement? Would you be replaced by Mallory? Something told you Michael knew exactly where Madison was; she wasn’t ‘missing’.


	8. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Michael's childhood.

You had spent the journey from Paris to Calais in relative silence, not wanting to speak to your husband. He seemed to think your fever had come back, content with you leaning on him to sleep. The scenery through the window was marred by the rain and the clouds, bringing you back to the gloom of your wedding day.  
It would be difficult to avoid him on the ferry back to dover, he had to keep you close in case anything happened in the confined space.  
You were woken by Michael’s heavy breathing, opening your eyes to see him leaning over you, looking at you as if he were starving.  
“What’s wrong? You look so pale my love. Are you sick?” you asked, despite everything, the state he was in now worried you greatly. He looked fine when he went to bed, what had happened? You took his face in your hands, trying to get him to refocus and say something; his skin was so cold.  
He licked his lips, like a predator that had caught its prey. He seemed to snap out of it suddenly, shooting out of bed.  
“I’m fine, the sea air seems to be getting to me,” he began to pace the room. He was weak, you could tell by his staggered pace.  
“Michael? Please what’s wrong? Do we need to get a doctor?”  
“I’m fine just go back to sleep.” He crawled back into bed, pushing you down from the seated position.  
“You look sick, please let me help.”  
He looked agitated, gripping your chin like he did on the night you first travelled to Langdon castle, looking you in the eye, “I told you to go. To. Sleep.” He bit out. His hands were freezing.  
You tried to fight the feeling that washed over you, but within a matter of seconds you fell back into the pillows, eyes closing. You could have sworn you saw his eyes turn black before you succumbed to the darkness. Your nightmares returning.  
////  
You woke up in pain. It hurt to breath. You were in your bed back in the castle. When had you arrived? Why didn’t you remember the last half of your journey?  
It was still dark. Michael had his arm around your waist, his other hand was lightly gripping your neck. He sensed you shuffling and seemed to tighten his hold. “Go back to sleep,” he mumbled.  
“I can’t breathe,” you whispered. His grip on you loosened, letting go of you completely. Instead of settling back down, he got out of bed, putting his robe on and slamming the bedroom door behind him. He didn’t return that night. You lay awake wondering where he had gone and what on earth was happening.  
Michael didn’t return to your side, leaving only a rose for you to wake up to.  
////  
You looked at yourself in the mirror before your bath. The bruising that you had after the ball, had returned. Painfully purple marks littered your neck and breasts again. You had no idea where they came from.  
You decided to sit in the garden and start on your new embroidery piece. Working on black velvet that you had bought in Paris. Free handing and taking inspiration from the garden that surrounded you.  
The day had passed, still no sign of your husband. You knew he was home, but he hadn’t spoken to you since the previous night. As you packed your things to go back inside, you realised something, you knew nothing about Michael’s parents.  
“Medina? What do you know about the Late Count and Michael’s mother?”  
“I only started working here two years ago my Lady, they’re not spoken about much here. I can only tell you a little,” she replied.  
You motioned for her to sit and start talking.  
She hesitated a little before starting. “The late Count was murdered just before Count Michael’s birth. The loss of her husband drove Countess Vivienne insane. Apparently, she almost killed her son for looking too much like his father,” she whispered the last part. Your eyes were open wide with shock.  
“Lord Nathaniel took over the estate after Count Lucien’s death. The Family called him ‘Tate’ lovingly. He never took a wife but…” she looked around before starting again, “He took a liking to Lady Vivienne, when she refused his offer for marriage, he…. He took her against her will. Lady Constance just turned a blind eye to it all.”  
‘How horrible’ you thought to yourself.  
“She had enough when Lord Michael was around 5. She attempted to run away with her physician, Dr Harmon. But Lord Tate murdered them before they could leave the grounds. They were hunted like animals apparently. The little Count waited for days at the door, for his mother to return home. She never did.”  
You began to cry for the boy your husband used to be. How horrible must it have been for your mother to never return. At his age, you’d cry if your mother was only in the next room. So much grief for such a little body.  
“What happened to Constance and Tate?” you pressed on.  
“Lord Tate was murdered five years ago. No one knows what happened, or where he’s buried, but it was horrific. As for Lady Constance, she took too much Laudanum and never woke up. Countess Elizabeth is the only blood relative that is still alive; she was his aunt Rose’s daughter. That makes Count Michael the last Langdon,” she finished.  
You were left speechless. What could you say to this? Such a heavy burden he had to bear. No wonder he hid that painting form the world. Seeing it must have brought painful memories back. You tried to compose yourself, ready to go back inside. The sun had set, making it dark outside.  
“This conversation stays between us Medina.” She nodded in reply.  
////  
You began to grow irritated at Michael’s behaviour. You hadn’t seen him, let alone spoken to him in five days. You didn’t sleep together or dine together. There was only so much embroidery you could do to pass the time. The smell of the chocolate cake you were baking didn’t lure him out. If he wasn’t coming to you, you would go to him. You knew he was holed up in his office. So you took afternoon tea to him yourself, not even bothering to knock, you were not going to wait for a reply.  
The office was a tip. Papers everywhere on the desk and the floor. You were sure children were cleaner than this.  
“Do they not teach you how to knock in your little village,” he asked, glancing up from his paperwork.  
You decided not to reply; two could play the silent game. Instead you cleared some space on the desk, setting two of everything down and pouring the tea. You sat down right in front of him, cutting only one slice of cake. Michael reached to grab the plate, thinking it was for him. However, you decided to be childish, cutting the slice only for yourself. He was watching you as you devoured the slice, shocked at your bold behaviour. He wanted to have his cake and eat it. You wouldn’t make him stoop so low that he would have to cut his own slice? Would you?  
You were looking at anything but him, taking in the messy office around you. You stopped mid bite, noticing the picture on his desk. His eyes followed yours. It was the picture he stole from your brother. You raised your eyebrow in question and continued to chew.  
“Your brother gave it to me… after we got engaged,” he blushed a little.  
You just hummed in reply, reaching for your last bite. As you lifted the fork, Michael grabbed your wrist, smiling at you before yanking you forward, taking the last bite into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction, while you were sprawled across his desk in shock.  
“Your cakes are always so good,” he moaned.  
“You can cut yourself a slice then.”  
“Never, I have people to do that for me,” he replied.  
“Then starve,” you finished collecting the tableware, about to leave, “You don’t have to look at the picture on your desk all day, I’m just upstairs you know,” with a final wink you shut the door, not waiting for a reply.


	9. Portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last regular chapter before uni starts again. Updates will be slow from here on out haha but please do enjoy and leave a comment.

Michael learned what a cruel woman you could be that evening.   
He finished his work and went to raid the kitchen for the cake you had deprived him of, only to find out that you had let the staff finish it off, telling them that the missing slice was eaten by the count. He stormed up to the bedroom that evening, wanting to make good on the silent promise from hours before, only to discover that you were fast asleep. His door slamming and stomping around wasn’t enough to wake you. To put the icing on the cake, you had taken over his side of the ginormous bed, just to spite him. He grumbled and reluctantly lay beside you, choosing not to wake you tonight. He had deserved this treatment, although he didn’t expect you to go through with it, no one ever had.  
Yet even in your unconscious state, you reached for him, grabbing a hold of him and pulling yourself closer and burying your face into his side, all while deep asleep. That little action put a smile on Michael’s face. He pulled you closer and put his hand around your neck, like he did every night, to reassure himself you wouldn’t leave; he was lulled to sleep by the sound and feeling of your calm pulse.  
////  
You woke to Michael watching you. You sleepily glared at him and turned away from him. He wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you flush to his chest. He began to pepper kisses on your cheek and down your neck and back. This is what he had commissioned the low-cut nightgowns for.   
“You can’t be upset with me forever little dove,” he stated between kisses, pulling your gown down and attacking your shoulders.   
You shifted a little and heard him groan. It took you a moment to register his leaking erection before you were fully awake and realised, he was undressed behind you and he had already bunched up your nightgown at your hips. His fingers travelled down to your folds and made you mewl, the last dregs of sleep heightening the sensations you were feeling.   
“I got sick of staring at the picture on my desk, so I came to enjoy the real thing,” he whispered. He slid his cock over your leaking cunt, not entering just yet. You moved your hips for more friction, but he stopped you.  
“Don’t be greedy. Was the cake not enough for you yesterday?”  
All you could do was pout in response. He eventually had enough, slowly pushing himself inside you, the pair of you moaning as he bottomed out. Michael didn’t move, holding your hips still and keeping you there.   
“Be good and stay still,” he ordered. You whined in response, wanting nothing more than to move. You felt so full of him, the stretch itself making you drip onto him and your thighs. Your muscles involuntarily clenched, making him groan and lightly thrust into you. He slapped your ass as a warning, gripping your hip tight enough to leave bruises. Had it not been for the position you were in; you could have drifted back off to sleep in his warm embrace.  
Just as you were getting used to the feeling, Michael pulled out of you slowly, a lewd ‘pop’ echoing through the room. He didn’t give you enough time to register the emptiness, flipping you onto your hands and knees, mounting you again with one swift thrust.   
“Bite the pillow, it’s only 5 am, you don’t want the whole castle waking to your whoreish squeals,” he growled.   
You tried to say something, but all words were lost when he started to move his hips at a rapid pace. His hand was around your neck, pressing your face into the pillow to stop you from being too loud. His other hand travelled to your clit, combined with the teasing from earlier on, it was all too much, your orgasm crashing over you quicker than you thought. Your legs were shaking with the aftershocks. Michael didn’t care, continuing to pound your sensitive walls.  
The position you were in in didn’t let you see Michael wet his fingers with his mouth. You were still coming down from your high to notice Michael spit onto your backside. You gasped when you felt his finger enter your other hole.  
“P-please don’t,” you cried out.  
“Hmm? I’m trying to satisfy that greed of yours, be thankful,” he replied, adding another finger.   
“Please, I feel so full,” you whined. Michael’s hips stuttered at your words, painting the inside of your walls with his seed. You breathed a sigh of relief thinking he was done when he pulled out and removed your fingers from your other hole.   
“Ah ah, don’t move little dove, I’m not done with you yet,” he was still erect, coating his member in your mixed juices and readjusting your hips. “Bite the pillow,” he demanded, as he pushed your face further into the pillow. You complied, the pillow muffling your cries as he slowly pushed himself inside your ass. You tried to relax to make it hurt less. You felt so full as he bottomed out inside you.  
“You’re so tight here too, swallowing me whole,” his hands massaged your hips, getting you to relax around him. He began to slowly thrust, the burning feeling turning pleasurable, making your let out a particularly loud moan. Michael took it as a signal to speed up.   
Michael grinned at the sight in front of him, not long ago you were an untouched girl from a small village, now here you were, his personal whore to use as he pleased, giving into the carnal pleasure he offered you. He moved up to your neck and began to leave kisses and hickeys down your spine, his hand moved to your swollen clit again, wanting you to feel the pleasure that he did. You continued to moan at his actions, surprised at the pleasure you were feeling from such a position. This form of deviant sexual behaviour was always frowned upon, you hoped a servant wouldn’t see you in such a position. You began to clench around Michael again, your second orgasm on its way. You felt Michael begin to twitch too.   
“Cum for me Y/N, give into me,” he rubbed your clit faster, causing the coil in your belly to snap and clench around him. He wasn’t far behind, your clenching making him groan, “I see all your holes are greedy, never getting enough.”  
He pulled out of you slowly as your legs continued to shake. He pulled your cheeks apart, watching both your holes leak with his essence, the image forever burned in his mind, he had thoroughly claimed you this morning, all of you.   
Your hips collapsed on the bed as you came down from your strange high. Michael gently turned you to face him. You face was flushed and wet with tears. He preferred this image to you as opposed to the picture he had carried around for two years. He wondered what Gabriel would think of what had become of his sweet little sister at Michael’s hands. But Gabriel couldn’t complain, he knew exactly what type of man his friend was.   
“Y/N come back to me my love,” he stroked your cheek, trying to get you to focus on him. You began to cry again but not from pleasure this time. The shame from what you had just done overwhelmed you, the slight pain didn’t make you feel any better. It had been ingrained into you since you were old enough, that ‘sodomy’ was wrong. You felt guilty for enjoying such an act and began to cry harder.  
“Tell me what’s wrong my love? Did I hurt you?” he gently took your hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. You didn’t reply burying your face back into the pillow. He turned your face to face him again, peppering kisses on your cheeks and forehead.   
“Look at me Y/N Langdon,” he wiped your tears, “we are married, husband and wife, what happens within the walls of our private quarters is our business only, do you understand?”   
You nod in reply.   
“We left God at the church when we got married, he cannot hurt us, he cannot hurt you,” he reassured. You calmed down a little as he whispered sweet reassurances to you. He eventually got up and lifted you, you whined at the soreness. He took you to the bath that was full and steaming, the smell of chamomile and sage wafting through the air. He gently set you in before entering himself, taking his time to wash and relax you.   
The sheets had been changed by the time you got out and you sank into the fresh linen. Michael lay beside you running his fingers along your scalp, relaxing you and letting you sleep into the afternoon.  
////  
Your late breakfast/ lunch was served at 1pm, Michael grinned at you as you struggled to sit comfortably, you kicked him under the table as Mrs Mead left you.   
“You look positively radiant this afternoon my dear,” Michael said.  
“Don’t I always?” you replied, getting a chuckle out of him.   
“I have a surprise for you.”  
You raised your eyebrow in question.  
“As a Countess, your image must be immortalised for generations to come therefore I’m commissioning a portrait of you.”  
You almost choked on your tea. A portrait? You thought were hardly muse material.   
“Medina will take you to get changed after this, I have a certain image in mind and had a dress made just for this,” he smiled as he finished his tea.  
You sat there speechless before thanking him for the gift.   
////  
The dress was a deep red, far too rich for just a portrait. Medina was excited to lace you into it.  
“What has you so excited today?”  
“My older brother Richard will be painting you,” she giggled.   
“I’ve only met Jim. I had no idea you had an older brother,” you pointed out, sitting down for your hair to be done.   
“The count had sponsored Richard’s education in fine art, so he was in Europe. He’s just come back from Paris actually. It must be nice to paint statues and ballerinas all day,” she continued to intricately braid your hair.   
“Ballerinas?”   
“Oh yes, the count let Robichaux borrow Richard. They got advertisements and portraits of their girls, and Richard got practice,” she finished, placing red and pink roses into your hair.  
You wondered if he had painted Madison and Mallory too. More pieces for the puzzle that was your husband.   
You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling at the look Medina had created. All this for a simple portrait.   
You made your way down to the sunroom, where the boy had set up his materials.  
“Ah, there you are my dove, you look absolutely divine, there is no better way to immortalise you,” Michael kissed your cheek, leading you to a chair in the centre of the room.   
“This is Richard Mason, my favourite portrait artist, he will capture you in the best way possible,” Michael assured.   
Richard looked like his younger brother, albeit more stoic. You held your hand out for him to shake, “Pleasure to meet you Richard, your sister has sung many praises for you.”  
He smiled a little, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you my Lady.” He wasn’t a man of many words it seemed.   
He adjusted your position for the best angle, all under Michael’s watchful eye. One wrong touch and Michael wouldn’t hesitate to cut his hand off. Richard sat in his seat, watching you intently before starting sketching on his canvas.   
The soreness of this morning’s activities began to creep up on you gain, it was as if the position you were sitting in was made for optimum discomfort, a glance and Michael’s grinning face behind his papers confirmed it.   
Conniving bastard.  
////  
After an hour you were allowed to take a break, leaving the room to stretch your legs and to grab a quick snack, leaving Richard and Michael alone.  
“This is the most dressing up and set design you’ve done for one of these portraits,” Richard pointed out.  
“It’s because this is the last one and will be the only one displayed for all to see,” replied Michael.   
“You sent me all the way to Paris for that brown-haired dancer.”  
“The current Countess is already a success, Mallory is just a source, if not, just a back-up.”  
The conversation ended as you entered the room chatting to Mrs Mead, missing the looks that were being given.


	10. Letters

You were surprised at how hungry you were just from sitting for a portrait. Almost every hour you got up to stretch your legs and eat something.

Richard had finished the sketches and thumbnails by 7 pm, not needing you for anymore sittings. You had tried to catch a glimpse of the work, but Michael insisted that you only see the complete image once it was finished.

“Do you already have a portrait Michael?” you asked, curious as to why you didn’t get one together.

“I do, that’s why I wanted one of you to match, they’ll be put next to each other,” he smiled at you, kissing your hand.

Mrs Mead brought your dinner out, you ate it faster than Michael ate your cakes. You swallowed your last bite and wiped your lip, “Why didn’t we get one together?”.

“We will my love, in the spring where the flowers are staring to bloom, and the leaves are at their greenest. We’ll get one to symbolise new life then.”

You were satisfied with his answer, waiting on tea and cakes.

////

The next day, Michael had errands to run in the nearby town. It seemed that your own sickness had retuned, vomiting the contents of your stomach as soon as you had opened your eyes that morning. You must have eaten too much the day before. Despite the state you were in, you decided to go with him, wanting to see more of the county you were technically responsible for, you were a Countess after all.

The carriage ride wasn’t long, half-an-hour at most. The weather was clear, a cloudless sky above you. The townspeople seemed a little wary around your husband, stepping out of the way and avoiding eye contact. This troubled you. But then again, you knew nothing about the relationship between a Count and his people. You took in your surroundings as you walked towards the Langdon family’s Lawyer and Accountant, Mr Nutter and Mr Pfister. Your impression of the pair was not too great, vaguely remembering your awkward interaction at the midsummer ball. It seemed that their habit of leering hadn’t changed.

“It’s made our week now that you’ve brought your beautiful bride with you,” said Jeff.

“Don’t you both have children to get home to,” you spat back, not knowing what had come over you to speak in such a manner. Michael only laughed at your response, not giving any indication of being displeased at your sudden outburst.

He held out his wallet, “There’s a lovely market in the town square today, Jim will take you and I’ll come find you after I’m done,” he instructed.

You nodded and thanked him, taking the wallet. You did not want to spend any more time near those two.

You were greeted by Jim when you left the building. He started to lead the way to the market, and you got a closer look at his face.

“Jim? What happened to your eye?” you asked. The area around his eye was scarred, as if it had been burned. The eye itself was a dead white colour, it was no longer the blue ocean it used to be.

He turned his head away. “There was … an accident with a fire in the stables… I couldn’t turn away in time,” he explained.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore, I’m fine as long as I can still see out of the other,” he finished. You guessed he didn’t want to go any further. The sky seemed to cloud up at the end of your conversation.

You had arrived at the market. It was slightly bigger than the one your own village had; you missed it dearly. You smiled and said your ‘good afternoons’ getting lost in what the market had to offer.

You reached the flower stall, just wanting to take a look.

“I neve thought I’d be visited by the countess herself,” said the florist.

“Oh I hope I’m not intruding,” you replied. Small purple flowers caught your eye. You hadn’t seen them in the garden before.

“If I were you my Lady, I’d take some verbena flowers with me and keep them with me at all times.”

“I’ve never seen them before. What are they for?”

The florist looked around, before wrapping a bunch and holding them out to you. “They are said to protect from evil, you never know when you’ll encounter the devil,” he whispered.

You moved to pay him. “Please, these are a gift from me. I won’t take that man’s money. But My Lady, Please, get as far as you can,” the florist finished, quickly moving onto the next customer and leaving you confused.

You couldn’t give the interaction too much thought before Jim came to get you, leading you to the carriage where Michael was waiting.

“Out of all the things the market had to offer, you found the smallest flowers to waste my money on. They might as well be weeds,” Michael complained.

“Oh stop being childish, I like them, they’re delicate,” you chided.

“I hate the smell,” he scooted away from you. You just shook your head. The nausea from earlier beginning to creep up again.

////

You chose to spend the rest of your day in your old refuge, the library. The sky was grey, no longer the bright blue it had been earlier. You chose a few books to press your new flowers in, hoping to use them as a reference for your embroidery piece.

You liked to find a new nook or cranny to read in, preferring the comfort of a confined space. You found a space in the far corner of the library, bringing candles for when it inevitably got dark and your embroidery, to give you a variety of ways to spend the time.

You got settled into your seat, getting lost in the book. You moved to adjust your head, your neck getting sore from the position you were in. As you moved, you heard the wall ‘click’ behind you, your head abruptly falling back into a newly revealed alcove. What on earth was this?

You moved onto your knees to look behind you. A little piece if the wall had slid out, revealing a secret cavity in the wall. It was only as deep as the bookshelves that surrounded you. There was only one thing in there.

A small wooden box.

Why was it hidden in here?

You knew you wouldn’t be disturbed for another hour, so you allowed your curiosity to get the best of you. Elizabeth’s words echoed in your head.

You pulled the box out. It was simple, no decoration or carving on it. There wasn’t even a lock. You slowly lifted the lid, holding your breath at what you may find. A look of confusion washed over you.

Envelopes.

It was a box full of envelopes.

Your fingers twitched and you pulled one out. The letter was addressed to ‘Madame Cordelia’ at ‘Académie Robichaux’ in Paris. You were more confused than you were before. The letter never reached its destination as it was still sealed. The wax seal matching the signet ring Michael had gifted to you, the same seal your letters were sent with.

Your hands shook as you opened the letter, dreading to see what you would find inside.

_‘ Ms. Cordelia_

_Please, I beg of you. I need a reply. I need your help. How many more of these should I send for you to take me seriously, for you to stop ignoring me. You always asked what kind of man he was. We were wrong, I was wrong. He is no man. He is a monster, a beast. And he’ll kill me. Please please please send a priest for me. I fear I do not have much longer._

_Madison’_

Your breathing became erratic and you could taste the bile. You frantically looked through the box. All letters addressed to Robichaux. All unsealed. The handwriting getting more frantic on each envelope.

The last one was just addressed ‘Cordelia’. No address, no destination.

_‘This is my final letter. I have lost too much blood. I will not survive the night. You cannot save me. Save the next one. He chants her name and spends hours with her picture, like a devotee at a temple, a fanatic. He said she will be successful. He’s hungrier than ever now, I can no longer satiate him. Saver her. Save Y/N_

_Madison’_

You were in danger. You could feel it. You knew then that your own letters didn’t reach your mother.

You couldn’t dwell on it too long, the opening of the library door pulling you out of your thoughts. You scrambled to put the box away, sliding the façade back in place, hoping the click wasn’t loud enough to alert the intruder.

“My Lady? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”


	11. Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of the end

You avoided dinner that night, choosing instead to go straight to bed. Your sickness and the letters giving you a headache. Before you slept, you placed some of the flowers in a vase on your nightstand, hoping to ward off whatever was in this house.

As you began to drift off, the covers were yanked off you, exposing you to the cool air.

“You are in no state to be refusing dinner!” scolded Michael. He stood in his robe, Mrs Mead behind him with a tray of food.

“I’m not hungry,” you said, attempting to reach for the covers. He turned to Mrs Mead, who handed him the tray and left you both alone. The smell of the food made your stomach grumble, but you still turned away when Michael brought the spoon to your mouth.

“Turn around and don’t be petulant.”

You rolled your eyes and refused to turn to him. You heard him huff before he forcefully turned your face to him. You refused to open your mouth, glaring at him. He had enough, pinching your nose so you’d be forced open your mouth to breath. Tears began to fall as you had to open your mouth. Michael shoved the hot spoon in your mouth, not letting the soup cool and burning your tongue.

“Now swallow like a good girl,” he ordered.

You closed your eyes and swallowed the burning liquid. Wincing as it reached your stomach.

“Now Y/N, you better have finished this bowl before I get back from my study, or else ill pour it down your throat. Do you understand?” he threatened.

You nodded and that was enough for him. He left you alone with the meal. You reluctantly began to eat, fearing what more could happen.

You pulled the covers over you after finishing your meal, not wanting to talk to Michael at all. He returned a few moments later, passing off the tray to Mrs Mead. You turned away from him as he crawled in beside you. He sighed and pulled you back against his chest, trapping you in his tight hold. Nothing was said as you drifted off.

////

You were sat at breakfast, picking at your food.

“I have some news,” Michael interrupted your train of thought. You looked up at him inquisitively.

“we will be going to see a play tomorrow evening,” he stated.

“Why?”

“Xavier Plympton’s play is having its final performance in the city nearby he is a good friend of mine. Your brother knows him. Some of the girls you met at Robichaux are part of the cast. There will be an afterparty here at the castle”

“Will Mallory be there?”

Michael looked at you like you were stupid, “Of course she will, she’s my primary beneficiary and their best performer.”

You just smiled and nodded.

////

The library must have held more answers. You had a few hours to look for more clues. At first you went to check the cavity you found last night, to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. It was still there along with the letters. The library must have been built with more. Instinct told you to go to the opposite end; hopefully someone appreciated symmetry when building it.

You were right, a little bit of pushing and the second alcove gave way. A similar box inside.

The handwriting was different on these envelopes. The wax seal had no crest. They were addressed to the USA.

You took a deep breath and unsealed the letter.

_‘Dear Father,_

_It worries me that you haven’t replied to my letters. Is mother okay? Trevor? Our trip around Europe is coming to a close, yet Duncan seems more distant with me that ever before. I thought we’d become closer but there stills seems to be a gap. I always thought that it was rumour that the Shepherd dynasty was unwelcoming to their brides, but I know it’s true now. He’d rather spend the night in the streets than with me. I hope this doesn’t continue after the wedding. Our final destination is a ball some Count is holding. Apparently, his new wife is being introduced to society. I wonder if he loves her. Duncan speaks highly of his friend._

_I hope this letter arrives and that you send me an answer for once_

_Love, Coco’_

Why were Coco’s letters in your home? Why had they been left unsent? The was a simple folded piece of paper in the box, the same address as the letters before on one of the sides. You unfolded it to read its contents.

 _‘Please send a priest. Send some help. I have been trapped here. These men are beasts. They just sat and watched as the other’_ The ink was smudged.

_‘I have sent this with that sweet maid, reward her well. Please save me.’’_

You reread the paper twice, before folding it and putting it back in the box. Coco never reached the States. You know that she didn’t get on that ferry back. The scream you heard that night must have been hers.

Whatever had happened to Madison, had happened to Coco. And it would happen to you too. The fact that the letter was given to a maid, but was in this box, meant that none of the staff could be trusted, not even the twins.

You put the box away and clicked the façade shut. Thinking about a way to get out of this castle before it became your coffin.

Your head began to spin as you left the library. You moved towards the garden to get some fresh air, but the sunlight made you recoil. Your eyes felt sensitive to the sun, making your head feel worse. You held onto the wall, trying to make your way to your room. Your mouth felt so dry, and your forehead was damp with sweat. You fell to the ground with a loud ‘thud’, the sound of running and a pair of fine leather shoes coming towards you the last thing you saw before your eyes snapped shut.

////

You woke to the sound of muffled voices. Your tried to make out the whispering, but the harder you concentrated, the more your ears rang. You groaned in pain and frustrating, alerting the room that you were awake.

You vision was blurry, but you were surrounded by Michael, Mrs Mead and Dr Montgomery. Michael was speaking to you, but his voice was still muffled, as if you had your head underwater. You tried to speak, but no words came out of your mouth.

Mrs Mead handed Michael a cup. He held you up and put it to your lip, making you drink the warm, sweet liquid down. You greedily drank, feeling better with each gulp, the fuzziness beginning to clear.

“Good evening Lady Langdon how are you feeling now?” asked Dr Montgomery.

You thought about your answer, squinting to focus on him, “a little… hazy still. My head has been hurting a lot recently,” you explained.

“Ah yes, Mrs Mead and the Count also explained your vomiting and fluctuating appetite.”

You nodded in response.

“It’s just a little bug, you must have caught it in Paris and the symptoms are developing now, but they should pass soon.”

He had lied to you again, you knew it.

He moved to check your temperature and the focus of your eyes. Giving you the clear and leaving a prescription with Mrs Mead.

“Make sure you follow the guidelines and keep your eating regular, even if you don’t want to,” with that he and Mrs Mead left, leaving you alone with Michael.

You just wanted to sleep again, resting your head back on the pillow. You heard Michael shuffling around before he got in beside you.

“You always worry me little dove, I thought you might have cracked your skull open with how loudly you fell,” his voice was soft.

“Where are you? You feel so far from me recently. Sometimes I feel like your somewhere else, like you’ve put your walls back up,” he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I’m just sick,” you sleepily murmured, not wanting him to see what you really were thinking.

He pulled your head to his chest with a sigh, “It will pass, I promise you it will pass.”

His actions and the softness of his voice lulled you to sleep.

////

Today was an exciting day for you, you had never seen a play before. Michael had let you see the ballroom get decorated for the party you would be hosting in the evening. You were in awe of the speed at which the staff worked. The hustle and bustle of the day took your mind off the mystery of your Husband. It could wait another day.

The opera house itself was stunning, having been partially funded by the Langdon family when it was first built. It seemed like Michael’s ancestors knew nothing other than living in excess. A tradition your husband seemed to have continued religiously.

The performance itself had you mesmerised. The dancers were oh so elegant. You saw now why Mallory earned her title. The writing of the play was phenomenal, making it clear that Mr Plympton was a Hawthorne alumnus; it had you sucked in from the first note. Michael however, had spent the evening staring at you and at Mallory, you had slapped his hand away from you one too many times.

You were allowed backstage at the end of the performance, presenting flowers to Mallory and Xavier long with drinks for the rest of the cast.

“So, this is the Countess? You are far too beautiful to be on the arm of my friend over here. I’m Xavier my Lady, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you,” Xavier said, kissing your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Mr Plympton, my husband has sung many praises about your work, now I can see why.”

“Oh, I sang many praises for him back in the day too, don’t you worry,” Xavier winked at Michael, the innuendo flying over your head.

Michael cleared his throat to interrupt the conversation, “I do believe we have a party to host tonight and we mustn’t be late.”

Everyone nodded and smiled in agreement, making their way to the waiting transport.

////

The party itself seemed wilder than the ball you held a month ago. That was high society. This was libertines and bohemians. Although an entertaining crowd to watch, not one you wanted to participate in. You had decided not to drink that night, not wanting to bring on another headache. You might have enjoyed yourself more if you had you thought.

“No wine tonight Lady Langdon?” asked Mallory.

You laughed and shook your head. You were standing on the balcony, overlooking the garden, the party in full swing behind you.

“I think I drank to much at the dinner hosted by Robichaux,” you replied.

It was her turn to giggle, “Oh yes I remember, I think you had a full bottle by the end of the night. I saw you roll your eyes and lose interest in that conversation. It was quite funny actually.”

You both looked at each other and laughed, thinking back to that night.

“Yes well, sometimes the count begins to speak, and I don’t really care for it, so I just stop listening.”

“I don’t think he’d be happy about that,” Mallory pointed out, taking a swig and finishing her glass.

“mmm happy about what,” Xavier slurred out, he wrapped his arms around Mallory’s waist and rested his chin on her head, his face was flush with a stupid grin plastered across it.

The sight of the pair drunkenly swaying brought a smile to your face. How nice its must have been, to not be subject to the rigid structures of the society you lived in. To be able to do whatever you wanted, without a care in the world. You wondered what type of woman you’d be if your upbringing wasn’t so strict or sheltered. Would you have confronted Michael? Would you have married him in the first place? You thought about it now. You never had the chance to say ‘no’. your father and brother had made all your life decisions up to this point. And now it seemed that Michael was doing the same. You wondered what freedom tasted like. Was it sweet? Did it have an aftertaste?

Your thoughts were interupped by Michael’s hands on your hips.

“What ahs you so deep in thought my love?”

You looked up to the stars, taking in the vastness of the night sky.

“Nothing really, maybe about our place in the universe. All the events that have led us to where we our now. Maybe fate or higher power,” you rambled.

“I think you might have enjoyed the philosophy lessons we had back at Hawthorne.”

“I care not for man of ages past, only the here and now,” you sighed again, leaning back onto Michael’s shoulder. “It’ll be a shame when winter comes. Such a beautiful garden will be barren for months. Almost as if it will never live again. But then, the spring comes, and it is reborn.”

“Life is a strange thing, there’s some things that are almost immortal, but we do not remember them. Then humans, mortal beings that leave their mark. Fascinating isn’t it? Michael mused.

You were interrupted by Xavier.

“We must get going. Mallory and the girls leave for Paris in the morning, so they must get to their lodgings and rest.”

You nodded and Michael and Xavier walked ahead, yourself and Mallory walking behind them, engaged in small talk.

You said your goodbyes and stayed behind to watch them leave and wave them off. The night had taken a toll on you, so you left for your room and retired for the night. You assumed Michael would spend the evening reminiscing with old friends and colleagues. So, you were surprised to see him already in bed.

You moved to go the dressing room to change, but you were stopped by Michael.

“You can undress here, in front of me.”

You looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

He just rolled his eyes, “I have seen it all before, don’t be shy now my love.”

Your cheeks heated up and you avoided eye contact with him as you shed your layers, finally leaving you in your under garments.

He curled his finger ins a ‘come hither’ motion, you slowly followed his command. He reached towards you and removed the final barriers, the chill causing goose bumps and your nipples to harden.

“Don’t just stand there, come on now,” he patted his lap. You climbed onto the bed, then onto his lap, where he wanted you.

You moaned lightly as you felt his stiff cock underneath you. His hand travelled up your sides, ticking the flesh. They finally reached you breasts, and you cried out at he began to tease your nipples. They had been sore and sensitive recently. He took a nipple into his mouth, noisily sucking on it. You threw your head back at the sensation. What a sight you were to him, moaning and mewling at the smallest of his touches. He gave the other nipple the same attention, before moving back with a wet ‘pop’.

“You’re so beautiful from up there.”

His hands moved to your hips again, lifting you and then slowly impaling you onto his cock, he couldn’t wait any longer.

You held onto his shoulders, your hips meeting every thrust. He pulled you into a searing kiss, capturing each other moans. You both came quickly. No matter what you thought about this man, or what he had done, you lust for him seemed to be paramount. His voice and his hands could make empires crumble, just like they did to you.

You collapsed onto his chest, exhausted from everything. No words were spoken as you drifted off.

////

Five days later, late in the afternoon, you had a visitor.

Madame Cordelia had come to visit.

Mallory had never made it home.


	12. Salavtion

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Michael, Cordelia, Myrtle and you sat around the table. The tea was going cold, the cakes and sandwiches left untouched.

“Mallory didn’t come home. Her last known whereabouts were here,” Cordelia stated.

“I don’t know what you’re implying Madame, but she left that night with Mr. Plympton,” Michael stated.

“I watched them leave that night,” you interjected, not knowing why you were defending Michael, he clearly had something to do with it, his track record wasn’t the cleanest.

You shuffled in your seat, the sudden stares from all sides making you feel like a little mouse.

Michael put his hand on your thigh and gave you a comforting squeeze.

Cordelia just sighed, defeat washing over her face. She had lost one girl to this man before, and the thought of losing a second made her feel ill. Where were her girls?

“Did you check with Xavier?” asked Michael.

“Plympton is in London. He said he left for London before the girls left for Paris,” Myrtle spoke this time.

“Well then, something must have happened along the way then. You cannot blame all your problems on me. Do not forget who pays for that little school of yours,” Michael finished his tea and stood from the table, moving to stand Infront of the window overlooking the garden. “Please do enjoy what my county has to offer you during your stay, and please send a letter when you plan on leaving, I’ll be sure to see you off.”

“We are not leaving until we find out what has happened to our girls!” Cordelia seethed.

Michael took a deep breath, he was irritated. “Well then, I’m sure buying a house will be a better option than paying for lodgings. There is nothing you will find here,” he snapped back.

The silence took over the room again, before Cordelia and Myrtle got up to leave.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Myrtle broke the silence, “One of the little ones really enjoyed your company dear. She was happy that someone could entertain her embroidery talk, so she stitched this little gift for you.” Myrtle gently placed a beautifully stitched garden scene in your hands. You remembered the girl she was talking about, a sweet little thing. You looked intensely at the detail and effort that had gone into the little piece of fabric. You were glad you did. To the untrained eye, the border was just a delicately stitched pattern. But you knew better. It was a message, for your eyes only:

_“Salvation awaits at the crossroads, at the midnight hour”_

You smiled and looked up to Myrtle. “Thank you so much, I’ll take it.”

You could tell from the look in Myrtle’s eyes that she knew what you meant. You would take their offer for salvation. You would attempt to leave with them tonight. You prayed to any and every god that would listen, that you made it out alive and uncaught tonight. It was your only chance.

You saw these guests off as well, Michael choosing to go rage in his study.

////

You had eaten your dinner and made your way to bed. Getting there before Michael did. You couldn’t take anything with you, all you would take is the ring your mother gave you. If you left this way, you would never see her again. But then again, for all you knew she could be dead, your letters never reached her and her never to you.

You were hoping to get a little rest before the journey you were to make on foot. You knew the hourly chime would wake you when needed. But at 10, a scream rang through the castle. You were sure of it this time. You weren’t dreaming.

Again, Michael was nowhere to be found. You were not going to sit around without any answers.

You put fresh candles into the candelabra, making your way into the darkness of the hallway. Trying to follow the direction of the scream. You burned every twist and turn into your memory, needing them for your way out.

You finally got to a dead end. The painting. Memories of that night flashed in your mind. The face you saw was still so vivid in your head.

Now you held your head up high, not letting the fear take over you. You had cowered for too long.

You inspected the painting, looking for any clues. On the right bottom corner, below Michael’s mother, was a little break in the frame. You pushed the frame.

The wall in front of you rumbled, before sliding away, revealing a dark passageway.

The smell of opium and something metallic overwhelmed your senses, almost making you vomit on the spot it was so strong.

You looked behind you to make sure you weren’t being followed, before stepping into the passageway, your candles lighting the way. The passageway was cold, the temperature making you shiver. 

The passageway opened out into large room that seemed to have two floors. The room was decorated in reds and black, with plush seating throughout. What caught your attention, however, was the centre of the room.

There was large glass, what seemed like caskets in the centre, with various pieces of tubing coming out of them. You slowly walked towards them, fearing what you would find.

You gasped in shock, almost screamed at what you were looking at. The contents of the boxes were girls. Young women, naked and immobile. You moved to take a closer look. One of them was Coco. Sweet Coco, all scarred and covered in the bruising that you frequently experienced yourself. The tubes were attached to their wrists and necks, into the flesh and veins. You knew she was still alive from the subtle movement of her chest rising.

The girls had their names written onto a label that was attached to the wiring; the handwriting was your husbands. As if they were livestock. The girl next to Coco was blonde. Her label read ‘Madison’.

The sight in front of you disgusted you. The seating clearly indicated that more than one person was in here at a time. What were the girls? Entertainment? Playthings?

What had worried you the most however, was the empty case. It had no label but was open. Waiting and ready for its next occupant.

You couldn’t dwell on it too long, a whimper and a hushed ‘be quiet’ pulling you out of your thoughts.

The far end of the room was curtained off; that’s where the sound came from. You slowly walked over. The smell of blood becoming stronger, invoking a feeling of you that you couldn’t describe.

Your mouth fell open at the sight when you pulled the curtain back.

Michael’s teeth were buried in Mallory’s neck. Blood coated the bottom half of his face as he furiously sucked away. It dripped down his chin and soaked his shirt, dripping onto the floor.

Mallory’s head had lolled to the side, the pain evident in her eyes but fading with every greedy gulp that Michael took. She looked at you and choked out a ‘help’. Her dried up tear tracks glistening in the candlelight.

It was enough to distract Michael and pull him out of his feeding frenzy. He stopped and licked the wound, it healed right before your eyes.

The demonic face that haunted your dreams looked back at you. Black eyes and papery skin marred with Mallory’s life force. His breathing was heavy, and he licked his lips, proceeding to lick off the excess that was on his hands.

You were frozen onto the spot, unable to do anything, to say anything.

“Have you heard of knocking.”

He got up and walked towards you. Your feet finally moved. You moved back with every step he took forward.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of little dove. I was just hungry,” he grinned at you, his blood-stained sharp teeth the ones you saw in your dreams.

“G-get away from me you monster,” you cried.

“Monster? Not you too. I thought you were different Y/N,” he stopped in his tracks, rage washing over him. You continued to shuffle towards the exit. Wanting to get out as soon as possible.

He growled and shot in front of you, pinning you to the wall by your neck.

“Now now Y/N, you’ve been such a good wife. You don’t want to ruin it now. You’re far too precious to end up in one of those,” his grip on your neck got tighter, making you cry. He kissed you neck gently, before biting down. You screamed in pain as he drained you, your vision quickly becoming blurry with the blood loss.

He let go of your neck, his breathing heavy as he licked your neck clean. “Your blood is far too sweet for me to share.”

“Share?”

“Hmm, the clan must be fed somehow,” he stated, as if it was common sense. He licked the blood that had dripped down your breast, his tongue laving circles down your clavicle and breastbone. Had it been another time, the sight would have been erotic. But now all you felt was disgust and fear. The smell of blood upsetting your stomach.

You heard the clocks chime from the rest of the house. You had to leave now, or else you’d never get out.

Michaels grip on you was tight as iron, you wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of it. The candles were still in your hand. You pressed the flame into his eye, making him cry out and let go of you. You took the opportunity and ran out of the room and into the main castle.

“YOU BITCH!” Michael screamed, staggering behind you.

Thunder clapped as you ran down the winding hallways. You used your remaining candles to set alight some of the tapestries on the way, hoping to distract him long enough.

You burst out the garden doors and ran towards the moorland you had to cut through. The temperature outside was far too cold for the summer. The wind whipped all around you, making your night gown billow behind you. You could hear Michael’s faltering steps behind you, but you daren’t look behind.

Your feet were beginning to bleed on the rough ground. The blood loss was making it difficult to keep up your speed. As you reached the centre of the moor, the heavens opened up, the rain came crashing down on you.

Your nightgown was heavy and clung to your skin. You thought you must have looked like a ghost, floating over the moors, looking for her lost love. But all you were looking for was salvation.

You saw the carriage, just a few more steps and you’d be free. You mustered the final bits of your strength pushing forward. The door opened and hands reached out for you. Gripping you tightly they pulled you into the carriage and slammed the door shut, the carriage immediately moving at speed.

You took a breath and finally looked behind you, out of the window. He was still running towards you. He’d kill you all if he got close enough. You looked to Cordelia and Myrtle for any help. Cordelia said nothing but held out a gun. You took it with shaky hands, feeling the weight of it.

“You don’t have time to think!”

He was closer now; you could see is face clearly. His right eye had been burned out, just like he did with Jim. His clothing was tattered, and parts of his flesh were burned off; your tapestry idea had worked. Your blood still stained his face, his eyes were black and full of the rage of a thousand suns.

You cracked the window open and aimed. You took a breath and took the shot. Michael stopped dead in his tracks, the bullet blowing his other eye out. You watched him as he collapsed to his knees, his empty eyes burned into your memory forever. He finally fell face down into the moorland and you let out the sob that had been bubbling for so long.

Cordelia and Myrtle held you as you cried. You cried for yourself. You cried for the family you’d never see again. You cried for lost friends. But most of all, you cried for your lost love, for the beast that tore your heart out, that you had let him.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save Mallory.”

Cordelia shushed you and held you to her chest, just like your mother would. The exhaustion of the day finally took over you, you drifted off, letting the numbness take over, dreaming about the man you once loved.


	13. Affliction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter!!!! hehe

“What do you know about him my dear girl?” asked Myrtle, bringing you out of the constant daze you were in.   
“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” you responded, telling her the truth.  
“We began to do some observation and research after Madison disappeared,” she started.  
“There had always been rumours that the Langdon family had been involved in devil worship since time immemorial. It would explain their power and wealth. Count Lucien’s father promised the souls of his decedents in exchange for more. He wanted immortality.”  
“Immortality? What a strange thing to ask for” you perked up.  
“Yes. But the irony is, they all died anyway. But he had passed it onto his children. Caesar Langdon was killed by his wife. Lucien Langdon was killed by vampire hunters. You see, these beasts of the night have existed for centuries. There is always someone there to stop them. It’s a curse, to have to feed off the living to keep yourself going. They thought the Langdon line would end with Lucien, but no one was counting on Vivienne on being with child,” she explained.  
“What about Tate?”  
“He was far too unagreeable for anyone to willingly give him a child. The hunters would have killed him anyway if Michael hadn’t.”  
“Michael? Michael killed his own uncle?”  
“Of course, he did! Well, we can’t prove it, but it was probably revenge for what had been done to his mother,” Myrtle said casually, while stirring her tea. “He was born with this affliction dear, chosen by the devil to do his bidding.”  
“H- he said he had to feed his clan. What did he mean by that?” you questioned.   
“Creatures of the night have a complex society. They stick together in ‘Clans’ for protection and sustenance. Michael oversees the Cooperative, which is the name of his clan. They’re the reason we can’t keep you in France for too long, the Cooperative have their claws everywhere. They have been around for far longer than I have dear girl.”  
You looked at her confused, “Why didn’t we know, no, I know any of this before?”  
It was Cordelia’s turn to speak. “we only pieced it all together recently, we wished we could have gotten to you sooner. It seems that opium can convince lawyers and accountants to spill their secrets”  
She was talking about Jeff and Mutt  
“Did my brother know all this?”  
“He knew enough to have his tongue cut out.”  
You looked at her wide eyed, unable to speak after hearing the news.   
“Why? Why did he choose me?” you began to cry again, what had you done to deserve this.  
These were only answers Michael had.  
////  
Michael was born with his affliction.   
His lust for blood was uncontrollable as a child. Maid after maid was drained dry. His own mothers’ wrists and neck scarred from when he would feed of her. His grandmother would look at him with disgust after a feeding frenzy; his little round cheeks glossy with blood. He was always a messy eater.  
With the bloodlust came rage. So much rage. He almost killed Constance after she commented on his feeding habits. He had killed the dog when Tate had killed his mother, he was biding his time for a longer revenge plan.   
Mrs Mead had come to work for them when he was 15. She was one of the only staff members Michael hadn’t got his teeth into. Encouraging him to give into his desires, just as his grandfather would have wanted him to. She encouraged him to kill Tate, helping him devise his plan to slowly and painfully kill him.  
He took great joy in his killings.   
Hawthorne had let him meet more boys like him. Xavier was like him, a creature of bloodlust. Duncan was a wolf of a great American dynasty. Richard came from a family of hybrids, unstable and unable to survive in either society. But Michael offered him and his siblings a chance, taking them in as staff and the eyes and ears of his projects.  
No matter how much blood he had consumed, Michael’s cravings were still not satisfied. He craved one thing above anything else.   
He craved companionship. Someone to share the rest of his eternity with.   
If cousin Elizabeth could find someone, why couldn’t he?  
But things were never easy for Michael, they never were. Turning women just seemed to be harder than turning men.  
All his attempts at turning had been unsuccessful. They were often dragged away by deaths cold hands. The ones that didn’t die were left in a constant state of comatose. Laying between the veil of the living and the dead. There was one benefit to these failures. They became a permanent and constant blood source. They couldn’t move, they couldn’t speak, but they could hear and feel everything. It brought Michael a great sadistic joy that they could feel all the pain he inflicted on them.  
He had spent his free time looking for the perfect match. The unsuccessful ones usually became a source for him and the clan.   
He thought that might have changed with Madison. When he first laid eyes on her, the hunger he felt was one he had never felt before. The intense need to have her right there and then overwhelmed him. He went to all extremes to have her. Even promising marriage if she came to him. And she did. She left it all behind for him. So easily willing just like the rest.   
So, when she was another failure, Michael was shocked. The grief of it all sent him on a killing spree on his grand tour. A bad day and his night visitors never made it home.   
The feeling he felt after seeing your picture was indescribable. This was more intense than the one he had with Madison. Your image had devoured all logical thought there and then. Looking for girls that looked like you just to satiate him.   
When he finally had you, he thought he’d kill you. Your scent overwhelmed him, he felt like a wild, ravenous dog in front of a piece of meat. He watched you eat on your first night. He watched you undress, licking his lips with every piece of skin that slowly revealed itself. His fangs ached as he watched you bathe. He feared that if he had gotten too close, he would have ended you. He had almost killed you the night you had consummated your marriage, leaving painful bruises around your neck and breasts.  
After seeing the bruising, he knew had to control himself if he wanted to spend an eternity with you.   
Patience was something he never had. His lack of patience made him sloppy. Sloppy enough for him to have his brains shot out.  
////  
You had seen more of the world than you ever thought you’d see. More than you wanted to see. You spent no more than a week in one place, before the paranoia of being watched or followed took over you. You couldn’t trust anyone now.   
The cooperative always made themselves known when they were around. Places you had stayed would be burned down, or the people that you spoke to would turn up dead. They wanted revenge for what you did to their patriarch.  
You had become a living omen, forced to wander for eternity, leaving a trail of fire and blood behind you.   
Eternity.  
Blood.  
The smell of your verbenas repulsed you now, but you carried then just incase.  
Your teeth ached.  
You couldn’t help yourself.  
You got hungry sometimes, uncontrollably so.  
You tried not to take too much, but sometimes you’d go weeks without feeding. Your next meal ending up dead before your teeth let go.   
Your hearing got sharper too.   
You heard the Cooperative before they could get too close.   
You heard about your parents’ death. The carriage accident left no survivors. You wondered what excuses had been given for your absence. You wondered if your family line would end there. Would anyone marry your brother? A man with no tongue?  
Cordelia and Company refused to kill you. Michael had cursed you in more ways than one. His words rang though your head, when he mentioned a portrait in spring, to represent new life. You understood now what he meant. You understood the other secret everyone hid from you.   
The Langdon family curse carried on, on Easter Sunday.   
The cries of a baby boy rang through your secluded cottage at 3 AM. The irony of the event wasn’t lost on you.   
He looked just like his father, blond curls and blue eyes. A cherubic little thing. Adriel had dimples when he giggled, it made your heart soar. He was your priority now, choosing to settle just for a little bit. The cooperative hadn’t reached the Caucasus mountains yet.  
You sent news of your son and your decision to settle to Cordelia; the same way you sent every other message, in an intricately embroidered piece of cloth.   
The sun was bright and warm in the sky and the flowers were vibrant the day you got your reply.   
The envelope had smelled of smoke and burned flesh. Inside was your ‘letter’ that you had sent, the fabric returned to you singed. Your hands shook as you looked for any other clues. You looked at the envelope again and noticed the seal.  
Cordelia’s seal was white.   
This was black; the Langdon coat of arms. The unique form of the seal that was on Michael’s signet ring.   
He must have been alive. He knew where you were.   
You had to leave; you were no longer safe here. You ran to grab your son. As you brought him to your chest, you felt the air shift around. The birds had stopped chirping. The breeze had stilled. Storm clouds had quickly engulfed the sun.   
He was already here, nearby in the forest. You could feel it in every cell of your body, the pull towards your ‘creator’.   
He wasn’t close enough yet, so you ran in the opposite direction to the pull you felt. But the further you went, the fussier Adriel got. His cries ringing through the silent forest, giving away your location.   
A flash of brown stopped you in your tracks. A great wolf had landed in front of you. His teeth were sharp, and his eyes were red. You hadn’t felt fear like this in a while.  
You slowly stepped back, looking around you for a way out. But with each step you took, he took one forward, glaring at you.  
You thought you’d hit a tree with your next step, but a familiar pair of arms wrapped around you.   
“Did you have fun enjoying the sights and terrorising innocent villagers my love?” his honey like voice broke through the silence.  
Adriel had stopped fussing as soon as he heard his father’s voice, as soon as the babe had felt his presence. To you it brought dread and fear, to the child it brought the greatest of comfort, to be held by both parents.   
You tried to look around for an exit, but you were surrounded. Xavier and Richard to either side. The wolf was Duncan, you could small him.   
Behind you was Michael. His nose was on your neck, deeply inhaling your scent, “Oh how I’ve missed you so little dove.”  
There was no way out this time. You weren’t armed. You weren’t as experienced as these creatures. You couldn’t fight without risking Adriel.  
“Our little game of hide and seek is over little rabbit. I’ve won and now its time for you to come home,” he whispered to you.   
He had taken Adriel from your arms while you were distracted. You finally got a look at him, expecting to see the empty eyes that haunted your dreams every night.  
Instead you were met with the same face you saw on your wedding day. His eyes seemed bluer than ever before. His hair was glossier, shining despite the lack of sun. His skin was unblemished, like marble. Not a scar or any discolouration around his eyes. His lips looked softer too. You had missed them so, missed the words that came out of them, the way they felt on your skin.  
Adriel began to coo at Michael, reaching his tiny hands for his hair. You heard Richard gag at the sight.  
Michael paid you no mind as he began to walk again.  
“Where are you going?” you called out, following him like a lost puppy; you didn’t want to be separated from your son.   
“Your doctor prescribed trip to the French riviera is over. Your fever is gone and oh, how wonderful, the countess has given birth to nice and healthy baby boy. An heir. As I said before we are going home.”  
You had walked past your cottage and down the pathway.  
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”  
“Oh? And is Adriel supposed to have a wet nurse then?”  
“He’s staying with me Michael.”  
He stopped in his tracks and looked at you. He began to laugh hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, Adriel giggling with him.   
His face turned stony again. “The child stays with me. You come now and I might be merciful when we get back. I’m sure you understand the concept of ‘an eye for an eye’. However, if you don’t come with me, I’ll let Shepherd and Mason tear you apart limb from limb. And when you get back to me, well … you’d wish that they had killed you. An eternity is a long time my dear, but my vendetta will last even longer if you don’t get in that carriage right now.”  
You wished the ground would swallow you up, or that God would strike you down there and then. Your eyes began to well up. Michael walked towards you and shushed you, wiping away your tears.  
“The world is a scary place for people like us dear Y/N. We must stay together,” he held out his hand to you.   
The blood in your veins had yearned for him. It wanted to quench his thirst. His blood wanted to do the same to you. You realised then, that you were like two magnets. Always destined to find each other. What would you do without him anyway? Without his protection? His guidance? His ability to satiate all your hunger, no matter what kind or what the cost?  
You began to laugh to yourself, looking like you had truly, finally gone mad.   
The conniving bastard.   
He had planned this all along. Your dependency on him. No matter how far, and for how long you ran, you would always have to go back to him. Child or not. Affliction or not. You would always return to him. There was no place for you to be alone in this world.   
You finally stopped laughing, wiping the tears of your face. You took Michael’s hand with a bone crushing grip. You’d get revenge for those cracked and bruised ribs eventually.   
You sat in the carriage in a comfortable silence. The road was long, and you were tired, oh so very tired. You no longer cared about his ‘punishment’, knowing he would have stop eventually.   
You looked at the scenery from the window, Adriel at your breast.   
You slapped Michael’s hand away, “Stop distracting him, he’s trying to feed,” you chided.  
You looked down at Adriel, “And you, don’t go so fast, you’re just as greedy as your father,” you giggled.  
“I’d like a turn later on,” Michael whispered to you.  
You rolled your eyes and shook your head, “You’re disgusting. It seems that some of you brain is still splattered across the moor.”  
He ‘hmphed’ and turned to face away from you.  
////  
What Kind of Man was Michael Langdon?  
He wasn’t a man, he never was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all sm for sticking with me for this long. This is my first ever fic and it's already finished, oh how time flies. Your comments have meant the world to me and I hope this final chapter has delivered.   
> Although I will not be expanding on this particular universe, please do feel free to jump into my ask box @ michaellangdonstanaccount on tumblr to talk abt the story and other characters haha.  
> There's hopefully more to come in the near future  
> Thank you! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This story is vaguely set in the 1800s. Red velvet cake didnt really exist untill the 1900s, i know im aware. Some of these superstitions are real, others i just made up fro the drama innit. LMK what yall think, comments are very much appreciated. Thank u for reading my first fic ever love u xoxo.


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